


The Man Who Wasn't There

by Kassykins



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Ghosts, Haunting, Horror, Suspense, don't read if you're easily scared, no ships this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 20:19:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15565647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kassykins/pseuds/Kassykins
Summary: When Arthur's wife dies unexpectedly, he can no longer afford the mortgage on the family home, moving his two kids to an older house. The mourning Librarian isn't afraid of ghosts - he has some experience in the matter - but what's waiting for him in that house is nothing like he's ever dealt with before, and it's got its eyes on his children ...





	1. A New Home

**Author's Note:**

> This story came to life when I thought to myself - if I were to write a cheesy horror film (the type I could watch morning, noon and night without getting tired of them!) - what would it be? Ghosts! Hauntings! Suspense!
> 
> Don't read late at night...

_'Yesterday, upon the stair,_

_I met a man who wasn't there._

_He wasn't there again today._

_I wish, I wish he'd go away...'_

\- Antigonish

 

Autumn was in full bloom. That's what she would always say – nothing ever 'occurred', or 'happened', or 'fell into place', but 'bloomed', full of beauty and purpose. That's the kind of woman she was. It was one of the reasons he loved her so much.

It was weird, knowing that she wouldn't be here. He still expected her to walk through the door one afternoon, laughing in that airy way of hers about some sale or play or quaint patisserie that she had found and just forgotten the time... the funeral hadn't registered in his heart, lingering on the edge is his consciousness like a bad dream that refused to be forgotten. He knew that she was gone, but he still expected her to come home...

"Daddy?"

Arthur Kirkland looked around to the voice that had called him – Madeline stared up at him with those big violet eyes of hers, blonde hair even curlier than usual thanks to the moisture in the air. The little girl looked at him expectantly, clearly worried. Arthur's heart pulled in his chest – she looked so much like her mother.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" he asked.

"Why did we have to move?" she asked him, cuddling her bear close to her "I like our old house."

Arthur put the box on the ground, squatting down to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." he told her earnestly "We couldn't afford that house anymore. Without Mummy's paycheck... Daddy doesn't earn very much on his own. We had to move."

Madeline looked down, pouting. She made that noise children make when they understand what's going on, but still aren't happy about it, shuffling on her toes. Arthur brushed her cheek tenderly.

"Everything's gonna be fine." he promised her "You still have your own room."

"Did you bring Mummy's special table?"

"Of course."

"Can we put it in my room?"

"When you're a big girl. You can come use it in my room whenever you want until then, okay?"

"Okay." she mumbled.

"Daaaaaaaaddddd!" a boys voice called from the window "Where's the key to the basement?"

"I don't know." Arthur yelled back.

"But I neeeeeeeed it!"

"Whhyyyyyyyyy do you neeeeeeed it?"

Alfred, leant over the kitchen window ledge, pouted, half frustrated, half bored.

"Because it's locked!" he pointed out obviously.

"I know it's locked." Arthur replied as he stood, picking up his box again "Leave it be."

"But how will we know what's inside?" the kid pointed out "It could be rats, or monsters, or space aliens!"

"There are no rats!" his father assured sternly "And monsters live in cupboards, not basements. As for aliens... I'm not sure. Check the pantry."

Alfred disappeared from the window like a man on a mission. Truth be told, there wasn't actually a key to the basement – the house had been empty for a long time, and it had gotten lost over the years. Getting a locksmith in was just one more thing on Arthur's list of stuff that needed doing in the old house, along with fixing the gutting and giving the whole thing a lick of paint.

Madeline grabbed the pocket of her fathers jacket as the moving truck pulled up with the rest of their stuff, Kiku climbing out of the cab.

"We made it." he pointed out.

"Did you get lost at all?" Arthur asked.

"Only once." he assured "Good afternoon, Madeline."

"Hi." she greeted shyly, despite knowing the man her whole life.

"If Alfred checking the house for monsters?" Kiku knew.

"Uh-huh."

"I see." he laughed.

"Hey man, we okay to start setting up?" the rooster-haired mover called as his fellows opened the back of the lorry.

"Yes, by all means." Arthur called back "My son is already in the house, but you'll hear him long before you see him."

The mover laughed like he'd heard that all before, going around the back. Kiku gave Arthur a worried expression.

"Is it wise to have the children around while we're moving all the heavy furniture?" he pointed out "It could be dangerous if they're underfoot."

"It's fine." Arthur said "There's a playpark down the road and the weather's pretty clear – Alfred is pretty responsible where Madeline is concerned, so I'm sure it'll be fine to let them go."

"You couldn't have got a babysitter?" he insisted

"Who could I get at such short notice?" Arthur pointed out.

"What about Francis?"

"What _about_ Francis?"

Picking up the tone, Kiku let that thread of conversation drop. Since he wasn't much good for heavy lifting, he was sure he could watch Madeline. No force on earth could stop Alfred getting underfoot, though.

"Y'know, you're a pretty brave dude to buy this place!" the rooster-haired mover declared as he walked past with a stack of dining table chairs in his arms "Every time we pass this place, my girlfriend says it's haunted!"

"Yes, that's why it was cheap." Arthur joined "No-one wanted to buy it. A little DIY and all the 'hauntings' will disappear, I guarantee it."

"Rather you than me!"

The mover received a stern look from him colleague, who shooed him inside with a boot to the buttocks. Kiku waited until Madeline had wandered up the path to watch them before speaking.

"You're sure this place isn't haunted?" he asked.

"I promised, didn't I?" Arthur sighed "Marianne would never forgive me..."

Kiku held out his hand as if to steady his friend when the mere mention of his late wife drained all the colour from his face, but Arthur shook his head to compose himself.

"It's the same as any other old house." he assured him "A few cobwebs to clean out, rickety stairs to fix. There's no ghosts here, and even if one comes along... if one comes along, I can take care of it."

"On your own?" Kiku asked quietly.

"There's always Luca and Vlad, if it comes to it. There's no need to get my family involved."

Kiku just nodded. He didn't disbelieve his friend when he said there were no ghosts here – if anyone would know it was him – but it was easy to be wrong where the spirits were concerned. It had been a trying time for the family lately, and Kiku had had to lead Arthur away from one or two mistakes. He didn't mind propping him up a little: he missed Marianne as well...

"Alright." he complied "Let's get this done as quick as we can so we can get some dinner."

 

* * *

 

Alfred had never been in such an old house – his mother had always preferred new ones, and his father had always given in to whatever she wanted. Being 12 years old (nearly 13, but who's counting?), he had a much better grasp of what was going on than 6 year old Madeline. He knew his fathers librarian salary couldn't pay the mortgage on their old home, and that his dad wasn't coping very well with his mothers death – that's why Kiku was always around, making dinner and taking care of him and Maddy. Sometimes, when he got up to go to the bathroom at gone midnight, he would hear the two men still talking downstairs. Sometimes his father would be crying. Sometimes he'd be drunk. He had more respect for him when he was crying.

He finished checking all the cupboards – no sign of any monsters or rats, but the verdict was still out on the aliens. He chuckled to himself as he got the last bedroom: the wallpaper was faded pink with some white pattern on – this definitely had to be Madeline's room.

"Alfred?" he heard her call up the stairs.

He dashed down the hall to the head of the stairs, looking down to see her waiting. She didn't move, looking up at him expectantly.

"Did you find any?" she asked.

"No monsters in this house!" he declared "They must have heard that your big brother is a hero and all run away in terror!"

"Are you sure?" she asked again.

"Completely sure!"

"Positive?"

She looked around nervously, ignoring the movers lugging the furniture around. Alfred bounced down the stairs, picking her up.

"Extra super-duper absotively posolutely!" he swore "Come and see your room!"

"Okay!"

The big brother laughed, happy that the little girl seemed satisfied, and proceeded to carry her upstairs, holding her like a precious Ming vase until he reached the top, where he put her down carefully. He took her hand and led her to the pink room.

"You see? Your favourite!"

Madeline froze at the doorway, going very stiff. Alfred immediately stopping pulling, kneeling down to her.

"Maddy? What's wrong?" he asked "What happened?"

"You said there were no monsters." she whispered, clutching her bear with white knuckles and refusing to look at him.

"There aren't any." he promised "I checked everywhere! Where did you see one?"

Still not looking, Madeline pointed at the door to the cupboard. Alfred wasted no time in getting up and crossing the room, tearing the door open. It was old and creaked badly, the paint torn and peeling, but there was nothing out of the ordinary inside. Just an empty hole in the wall, a railing, a shelf and some old wire coat hangers.

"I don't see the monster." he told her "If I-"

"NO DON'T GO IN THERE!" she suddenly screamed like she had been burned "DON'T GO IN THERE ALFRED IT'LL GET YOU! ALFRED!"

He slammed the cupboard door closed again, darting over and wrapping his arms around the hysterical girl. She was physically shaking, nearly crying she was so upset.

"It's okay." he told her "It's okay. I can make the monster go away. Tell you what, this will be my room, okay? Monsters don't like me because boys taste like dirty socks."

Madeline laughed, her shaking easing.

"Hey, what are you two doing?" their father called as he appeared at the top of the stairs "What's all the yelling about?"

"Maddy just saw a monster." Alfred told him.

Arthur pulled a face that was far too concerned for the circumstances, walking up the hall towards them.

"Where?" he asked.

"In the..." she started.

Maddy pointed at the cupboard, pulling a confused face.

"It's gone." she said "Did Daddy make it go away?"

"That must be it!" Alfred assured "He's old, so he's like really dirty socks!"

Despite what Madeline said, Arthur walked into the room and opened the cupboard, inspecting it thoroughly. He didn't seem satisfied when he found nothing.

"Dad?" Alfred called.

Snapping to his senses, Arthur shut the door, walking back and kneeling on the floor beside them.

"You see any more monsters, you tell Daddy right away." he ordered his daughter.

"I will." she promised.

"Alright, sweetie, you're a good girl – go downstairs and put your coat on so you and Alfred can go to the park."

"Okay."

Released from her brothers grip, the girl got up and wandered off. Alfred kept his eyes on his father, who remained oddly serious.

"Did you see anything?" he asked "In the cupboard, or anywhere else?"

"No." Alfred admitted "Nothing. You don't think there is something?"

Arthur immediately smiled the kind of smile adults use when they're lying, placing a reassuring hand on Alfred's head.

"Of course not, son." he assured "But this house has been empty a long time – there could be wild animals that are used to coming in here, or a family of cats, or even some birds. You know how easily your sister gets scared. Keep your eyes peeled for me, okay?"

"Okay. Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I think I should have this room. But I want to paint it! Like, tomorrow!"

Arthur chuckled, getting up from the floor like the ageing geezer that he was.

"Pink is just a colour, Alfred." he told him "But if you insist. Take your sister down the park and I'll let you pick the next colour."

 

* * *

 

 

It was pretty late when the move was finished, so Arthur treated everyone to a takeaway. All the large furniture was in place, and with all the beds set up they could get a good nights sleep before setting everything up the way they wanted it tomorrow.

Well... theoretically.

Alfred didn't believe in monsters – he believed in science, he believed in maths. He believed that a family of wild animals might move into an empty house, and that his sister might have seen one, or thought she saw one. He believed in being a good big brother, in taking more responsibility now that their mother wasn't around. He did not believe in monsters. But he still didn't like that cupboard. There was nothing at all wrong with it, and he knew he was being silly – he was just tired and stressed from the move, and he wasn't used to being here yet.

It's just like his dad said – a little work, and this place would be just fine. A little paint, a few nails. Maybe call in animal control. They would definitely call an exterminator. First thing in the morning, that's what he would tell his dad to do. He had proof there was some kind of animal in the house now.

What else could be making that scratching noise?

From that cupboard.

_Scratch, scratch, scratch._

There's no such thing as monsters.

_Scratch, scratch._

There's no such thing as monsters.

_Scratch, scratch, scratch..._

…

…

…

" _Let me out.._."

Alfred bolted from the room before his heart even started beating again, dragging his bed sheets with him and almost slamming the door shut. Starting to hyperventilate, his first instinct was to go to his dads room, wake him up, tell him there was something in the house! He shook his head, still panting.

There was no such thing as monsters. He had been half asleep, half dreaming. That voice hadn't been real. The stairs creaked loudly as someone came up, startling him again. He thought everyone was in bed already. Was his dad having another bad night?

"Dad?" he called, walking along the hall "Are you still up? You'll wake up Madeline."

He came to the top of the stairs. There was no-one there. It had definitely sounded like there was someone there.

"Haa..." he laughed nervously "This old house needs more work than I thought."

The noise moved. Footsteps from downstairs. He wasn't going to be fooled twice. Maybe someone really was walking around, but they had been going down the stairs, not up. He was tired, that was a understandable mistake.

"Dad?" he called "Uncle Kiku?"

He put his foot on the top stair, and it creaked under his weight. The footsteps downstairs stopped.

"Dad?" he called again.

There was silence. No-one answered.

The footsteps broke into a run, sprinting towards him. Instinct took over and he fled, bursting through the first door he came to and slamming it closed behind him. The footsteps stopped. Alfred strained his ears to listen, the sound of his pounding heart right up in his ears. Shit, this was Madeline's room. He had better not wake her up.

The floor creaked right outside the door. Alfred leapt away from it, retreating to the only safe place when you were 12 years old and it was middle of the night: he jumped on his sisters bed, pulling the sheets up over him. Madeline groaned, stirring as she woke up.

"Mummy?"

"Shh, it's just me." he whispered, voice shaking as much as his hands "Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep."

"Mmmm." she moaned, rubbing her eyes and squirming a little.

Alfred put his arms around her, shushing her again. His ears were desperately straining, his heart still going like a jack-hammer in his chest as she fell back to sleep.

Alfred got no sleep that night.


	2. The Cupboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may seem like this chapters for this are going up quickly, but this story is actually an import and quick edit from my account on Fanfiction.net. No peaking! It'll all be here soon enough.

_When I came home last night at three,_   
_The man was waiting there for me_   
_But when I looked around the hall,_   
_I couldn't see him there at all!_

\- Antigonish

"Footsteps?"

"Yeah." Alfred laughed as he buttered up his toast "I scared myself good."

"Sounds like an exciting night." Kiku agreed, pouring himself some breakfast tea.

"I don't know if 'exciting' is the word I would use." Arthur disagreed "What if it had been a burglar? You really should have woken me, Alfred."

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"It was a stressful day." Kiku pointed out "I'm sure you'll sleep much better tonight."

"I'm sure we all will." Arthur sighed, getting up from the table and taking his plate to the sink "How about you go over a friends house today, Alfred? I'm sure Ludwig wouldn't mind having you over."

"Actually, I wanted to stay and help out here." he admitted "Get my room all set up, you know?"

"I thought you wanted to paint it?" his father recalled.

"It's just a colour." he echoed "And I'm just gonna cover it in posters anyway. I thought it would be more useful to spend the day at home."

"To be perfectly honest, it would be more useful to take your sister out for the day so I can get everything set up without wondering where she is."

"Why don't you call Uncle Francis?" Alfred asked "We haven't seen him in a while, I'm sure he'd love to watch her."

"You know, I'm running some errands today." Kiku interrupted quickly as he finished his tea "Nothing complicated, but it should take me a few hours – I can take her with me if you like."

"Are you sure?" Arthur clarified "If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all, not at all." he assured "I hear little kids are a good way of attracting women anyway."

"You scoundrel." Arthur laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

Today, Alfred was not going to be fooled. He helped his dad open all the windows so that fresh air could get into all the nooks and crannies in the house, propped open the doors and used Madeline's night light to check every plug socket. The two of them drew up a snagging list, and the boy could have jumped for joy when 'stairs' and 'pest control' were at the top without his having to ask.

With all the plugs and fuses checked, Alfred plugged in his stereo and turned the volume right up, putting on his favourite album.

"Alfred," his father called as he walked past the door "Think of the neighbours."

He turned it down, but just a little bit. Getting to set up his own room was kind of exciting – he could put his stuff wherever he wanted! With his dads help, he shifted his bed, his desk and his chest of drawers to exactly where he thought they should be (not where his mother thought, not where his father thought, but where _he_ thought! That was awesome!). As his father left to set up the living room, Alfred started unpacking his clothes and books, carefully arranging his posters.

The back of his neck tingled a bit. He was still paranoid about that flipping cupboard... Grumbling at his own foolishness, he grabbed his desk chair and used it to prop the cupboard door open. He'd need to be in and out of there anyway, this was just easier. He threw his socks and pants in a drawer, singing along with the music, before putting his coats and shirts on their nice hangers and turning back to the cupboard.

The door was closed, the chair lying on its side.

Weird...

The music was obviously too loud, if he didn't hear the chair being knocked over by the wind. There wasn't much of a wind... maybe the floor was at an angle? He picked the chair up and propped the door back open, putting his clothes on the railing.

"Alfred!" Arthur called up.

He went down the hall, poking his head over the railing.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"What do you want for lunch?" his father asked.

"Burgers."

"You can't have burgers for lunch. Think of something else."

"Ham sandwich?"

"You want mustard?"

"Yes please."

"Alright, I'll make it in an hour. After lunch I'll need your help with the stopcock."

"Okay."

At least he wasn't cooking...

Alfred went back to his room. What was a stopcock again? He knew it had something to do with plumbing.

The cupboard door was closed again, the chair thrown further away. That wasn't right... No! He wasn't going to freak himself out! It was all in his head, everything had a scientific explanation. He just had to examine the door, and it would all be figured out.

He pulled the chair up, propped open the door, and waited. When nothing happened, he turned down his music and closed the window. He watched the door, but it didn't move. Neither did the chair. So maybe that wasn't the problem. He examined the hinges – they were a little stiff after not being used for so long, but the door swung just fine. It was solid wood too – you didn't really get that in new houses. It was very sturdy, so at least he could say the house didn't have termites.

He examined the paint, hoping it wasn't old enough to be lead-based. It was cracked and peeling so badly that the whole thing would have to be sanded down and re-varnished to make it look nice.

The cracks on the inside were a little weird, so he squatted down to get a good look. They were long and thin, occurring in patterns of three or four at a time. They didn't just go down the wood, or in a crackle pattern like on the outside of the door, but at diagonals. Where had he seen that before?

It clicked – he had seen something like it at Ludwigs house: he had a couple of dogs, and they would jump up at the kitchen door whenever he came home. If their nails hadn't been trimmed, they'd leave these kinds of marks on the wood. Had someone kept an animal in his cupboard? That was seriously cruel.

Or maybe some wild animal had gotten itself stuck in here when the house was all shut up, and somehow gotten out again (he guessed, since there were no animal remains). Would've been a big animal, though, judging by how far apart the marks were. He held his hand up to the marks for comparison, running his nails down them.

They fit almost perfectly...

" _Let me out!_ "

Alfred leapt back, scrambling away from the door. What the fuck was that?! The door started to shake, rattling on its hinges. That noise... like a hollow moaning... it started to flow from the cupboard, creeping into the room, getting louder.

 

* * *

 

 

"DAD!"

Hearing his sons sudden scream of terror, Arthur dropped what he was doing, nearly smashing his favourite teapot in his haste, and bolted up the stairs.

"Alfred?!"

Had he hurt himself? Had he gotten an electric shock? Had he fallen?

Alfred sat on the ground, all colour drained from his face, shaking and staring open-mouthed at the cupboard.

"Alfred?" he called, kneeling down beside him "Alfred, what's wrong?"

"S-something in the cupboard!" he stammered, grabbing his arms desperately "A monster! A ghost!"

"What did you see?" he asked.

Alfred hadn't inherited the Kirkland sight... had he? He always got a little fidgety around spirits, but he never claimed to have seen one. Surely it couldn't have developed so late... When he got no response from his son, he examined the cupboard himself. He noticed those same odd marks that Alfred had, his knowledge and experience making him feel slightly queasy.

"Alfred, go downstairs and get me my screw driver." he ordered "And my phone."

He didn't need to be asked twice, bolting from the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Still panicked and thoroughly freaked right the fuck out, Alfred was hyper aware of his surroundings as he ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. Passing the front door, he caught a glimpse of something that made him stop in his tracks. Stopping, he took a step back to confirm what he had seen, knowing it couldn't possibly be what he thought.

Of course it wasn't. Shadows just don't stand on the street. Instead, it was a large man in a black coat, just staring at the house. He looked thoroughly disgusted and miserable, trying to hide his scowl behind a long scarf. A human being – a scary looking human being, but a flesh and blood human being nonetheless. Alfred could deal with that. Just seeing the man made him feel considerably calmer. It was rational. Everything was rational. He just needed some air.

He stepped outside, getting the tall man's attention. He looked over without a word.

"Hi there." Alfred called, hoping his voice didn't sound as panicked as he felt "Can I help you?"

The man examined him a moment, seeming to scrutinise every inch of him with piercing violet eyes. He smiled.

"Good morning." he greeted "Just move in?"

"Yeah, yesterday." the boy confirmed "I'm Alfred."

"I'm Mr Braginski."

"Pleasure to meet you. Do you have some business with my dad?"

"My, aren't you polite?" Mr Braginski chuckled "And I certainly hope not."

Seeing Alfred's confused expression, he chuckled again.

"I work for the Child Protection Service." he explained "I just happened to be in the area when I saw this house had someone living in it. It's been a long time, so I was curious."

"Yeah, you don't need to see my dad." Alfred assured "No-one needs protecting here."

"Glad to hear it. Is it just you and your dad here?"

"And my sister, but she's out right now."

"No mother?"

"Not for a while."

"Hmm."

Alfred's instinct was to get hostile – too many media reports of social services taking children away from loving families – but he suppressed it, knowing the media was full of lies anyway, and Mr Braginski wasn't even here to see them.

"I knew the people who lived here before." the silver-haired man confessed "It's nice that a happy family will be living there now. I imagine it needs a bit of doing up, though."

"A bit." Alfred confessed.

"Well, I've kept you long enough." Mr Braginski said apologetically "Pleasure to have met you, Alfred."

He nodded his head in goodbye, continuing along his path. What a weird man...

"Alfred?" his father called from inside the house "Where's that screwdriver?"

"Coming!" he shouted back, running back to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 

Luca arrived just as Arthur and Alfred were leaving, setting the alarm on that fancy car of hers. She wore the same pallid non-expression she always did as he walked up the house, heels clicking on the path.

"You didn't come right from work, did you?" Arthur asked, noticing her smart suit.

"Not everything's closed on Sundays." she pointed out "And we've got a serious deadline coming up. Hey there, squirt."

"Hey, Luca." Alfred greeted "Are you coming to dinner with us?"

"Not this time, kid. You daddy wants me to unpack your mums stuff so it doesn't get damaged."

"Yeah, good idea." the boy laughed "Half my stuff's got dents in it!"

"It does not." Arthur sighed "Go get in the car, trouble."

Taking the keys, Alfred wandered off. The two waited until he was out of earshot before speaking.

"Sorry to call you out." Arthur apologised.

"I was surprised." Luca admitted "There's really something in this wide world that the great Arthur Kirkland can't see."

"Please don't tease." he sighed "Alfred was really freaked out."

"I thought he didn't have the sight?"

"He doesn't. At least I thought he didn't."

"He may just be a little sensitive." Luca supposed "Probably always will be. If you explained it to him, he wouldn't get so scared."

"Let's not have this argument again. You know I promised Marianne-"

"Just because you love her doesn't mean she's right." Luca interrupted "But whatever, we'll argue about it some other time. Hand over your keys."

Arthur did so, taking a quick look at his watch.

"I took the cupboard door off – it's in the garage – but if you wouldn't mind checking everywhere."

"Yes, yes, I know. It's not my first rodeo. You go off with the kids and be a good daddy."

"Please stop saying 'daddy'." Arthur begged "You've got a breathy voice – it makes you sound like a porn star."

Luca grinned mischievously as she walked past him into the house, putting on her best sultry expression and swishing her hair as she spun around.

"Bye-bye, 'daddy.'"

"Luca!"

She shut the door in his face, still grinning. Men get flustered over the stupidest things, and teasing Arthur was particularly fun. She waited at the door until she heard him drive off, taking off her shoes and throwing her bag onto the sideboard. They'd only been here a day, but most of downstairs was unpacked already. If Marianne had still been alive, they'd still be moving the sofas around to get the best light.

_Now now, don't speak ill of the dead_ , she reminded herself with a sigh, _that stupid, fluffy woman's not around to argue with anymore_. That didn't stop her upending all the pictures of the idiot as she ambled through the house.

Of all the people Arthur could have settled down with, he had to choose her. Luca wasn't necessarily saying that she wanted to marry him – the two butt heads if they were together too long – but a woman like Marianne? Arthur was the most powerful exorcist to come out of the Kirkland line in over 300 years. Marianne knew that when she married him, and yet she still had the nerve to demand that he never taught their children his families ways, kept him away from his true calling just because she found it 'scary'. Idiot.

Luca sighed it out, going into the garage. As promised, the door sat in the middle of the floor – she smiled when she saw Arthur had drawn a containment circle around it. Talk about overprotective.

"You say you're out of the business, but you're still making chalk out of your blood." she said to herself as she walked over to it "Old habits, Artie?"

She knelt down, careful not to rip her smart skirt, and examined the door. She recoiled a little – those were definitely the fingernail marks of a small child. If some poor child had been abused in this house, the remnants of it could still be here. She headed for the bedroom.

As she headed up the stairs, something ran down the landing, darting into one of the bedrooms and slamming the door. So there was something. Why hadn't Arthur seen it? She followed it, opening the door to Alfred's room. She didn't bother to call out to what she had seen, going straight to his cupboard.

Sure enough, a remnant sat in the cupboard, squishy and slimy like masticated liver. She knelt down to get a closer look.

"Why didn't daddy see you?" she muttered to herself, ignoring the urge to poke it.

The remnant flinched. Weird. What had caused that?

"Hmm." she thought aloud "Daddy?"

It flinched again.

"Daddy."

Flinch.

"Ah, so daddy was the abuser." she realised "That's why you hide when Arthur comes around. No matter, stay here."

Not that it would have gone anywhere anyway. Luca went back downstairs to fetch the gear from her purse – it may only be a remnant, but she still didn't want to touch it. As soon as she was downstairs, she heard someone walking about the landing again.

"Just getting my purse." she told it.

Having done so, she went back upstairs, and again something bolted into Alfred's room, slamming the door. No wonder that poor child had been so scared – with no clue what was going on, this would have been terrifying. Back at the cupboard, Luca put on her gloves, drawing a circle of chalk around the remnant and pulling the vial of cleansing potion from from her purse.

"To the soul this remnant detached from." she said to no-one "Should you be yet living, I hope you find some absolution."

She poured the potion on the remnant, and it immediately shrivelled up and disappeared. Although she knew it did no practical good, she still said a prayer for it. Where there was one, there were likely to be more, so she made her way around the house, room by room, looking for more.

 

* * *

 

 

When the family returned home, finding the keys under the flowerpot by the door, they found the whole place covered in Lucas trademark passive-aggressive sticky notes. 'Bin day is Wednesday', 'the milk's gone off', 'your sofa is tacky', the usual things. Arthur noticed Alfred enter the house with some trepidation, looking up the stairs carefully.

"I don't know about you, but I could use a cup of tea." Kiku announced "Why don't I put the kettle on while you put that one to bed?"

"Good idea." Arthur agreed, sleeping Madeline in his arms "It's back to work tomorrow."

"Indeed."

The father took the lead up the stairs, Alfred following cautiously behind. He stayed with him until Madeline was all tucked up in bed, sticking to him like an upset toddler. Knowing he was scared, Arthur went with him into his bedroom, making a point of checking the cupboard. Luca had left one of her notes of the door frame.

"What does it say?" Alfred asked as his father picked it off.

"'Your dad's an idiot'." he read.

Alfred laughed, almost relieved – what had he been expecting to be on that note?

"Luca's funny, isn't she?" he said.

"Yeah, funny in the head." he agreed "Come on, it's time you were in bed as well."

 

* * *

 

 

Kiku hummed to himself as he poured the tea. Arthur had told him about Luca's visit, so the prevalence of notes everywhere was no surprise to him. Kiku had no sight himself, but he knew all about the spirit world – his father had been a Shinto priest and exorcist (but not a very good one, if the amount of times he had had to call the Kirkland family in the help in was any indication), which was how the two of them had met many, many moons ago. The spirit-seeing community was pretty small, so Kiku knew most of them personally - he had known Luca almost since the day she was born.

Taking his green tea out of the cupboard, he chuckled to find another note inside. 'Go home.'

"Try harder, little girl." he laughed to himself, screwing the note up and throwing it in the bin.

He heard a child laughing, followed by the light smattering of footsteps.

"You should be in bed, Madeline." he called "Are you thirsty?"

He looked around, expecting to find the familiar blonde mop of hair, but no-one was there.

"Madeline?" he called.

He walked to the doorway, thinking she had run off, and looked around. No sign of her.

"It's too late to be playing." he warned her "Go to bed now, or daddy will be angry!"

Still no reply. Maybe she had gone to bed. No matter. He went back to his tea, pulling the old brass kettle off the stove just as it started to whistle. He suddenly noticed another sticky note in his cup – how had he missed that before? He plucked it out. 'Go home.'

"How many of these did you write?" he asked.

Who did Luca think she was fooling? She was a bit younger than Arthur and Kiku, and had always been jealous of Marianne: she could at least wait until the man was done mourning before sticking her claws in him. He screwed up the note and threw it in the bin with the other one. He heard the laughter again, and the sound of one of the chairs scraping along the kitchen floor.

"Madeline." he warned.

He looked around. No-one there. He looked under the table. Still no-one, and none of the chairs had moved. He must just be tired, he figured, it had been a long weekend. He poured the tea, stirring milk into Arthur's decaf, and headed upstairs. Arthur was just coming out of Alfred's room, closing the door carefully.

"Just in time." he noted "Cheers."

"Not at all." Kiku said as he handed his tea to him "Is he still scared?"

"A little. I saw a chalk mark in the cupboard, so Luca did find something. I'm sure she a note about it somewhere."

"Amongst all the other ones." Kiku laughed "Well, I should get some sleep – I have classes first thing tomorrow."

"No rest for the wicked." Arthur agreed "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Headed down the hall to the guest room (currently his room), Kiku poked his head into Madeline's room – she was sleeping soundly. He envied that children could fall asleep so easily, but thought nothing more of it as he went to bed.

 

* * *

 

 

Alfred woke up in the middle of the night, freezing cold, having thrown his sheets on the floor. It was uncharacteristic for him, but he didn't really think anything of it. As he got up to retrieve them, he noticed his window was open. Had his dad done that? It was too late in the year to sleep with an open window, so he went the pulled it closed. No wonder he was cold.

As he picked up his sheets, he heard the window open. He looked around immediately, but nothing was there. He flicked on the overhead light. The window was indeed open. His eyes darted to the cupboard, but with no door on it he could see clearly that there was nothing but clothing inside. He shut the window again, locking it this time. The frame was old and weather worn, and it probably hadn't been opened in years until today: he would have to add that to his dads snagging list.

He flicked off the light and went back to bed, curling up under his sheets. In the silence of the night, he heard light footsteps shuffling about. His heart skipped a moment, making him feel very silly when he recognised the sound. He looked around, spotting a shadowy little figure in the dark.

"Go to bed, Madeline." he ordered "It's too early to play."

He pulled the covers over his head, hoping that was signal enough for his sister to go away. He heard her toddling over anyway, tripping on her feet as little kids often do, and felt her smack his shoulder a few times.

"I'm not playing, Madeline." he said sternly.

She smacked him again, but he still refused to move. 

Madeline started to cry.

In her own room.

Down the hall.

He was smacked again.


	3. Uncle

_Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!_   
_Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door..._

\- Antigonish

 

Marianne was in near hysterics when she arrived at her brothers flat, all the colour drained from her face, eyes red rimmed and lips dry from crying. Being the kind of brother he was, Francis immediately kicked out the girl he had picked up in the bar, pulled his sister inside and put the kettle on, shifting his piles of papers from the kitchen chairs and tables. When she didn't speak right away, just staring at the teacup in her hands, he pulled out some of the leftover pastries from the fridge, warming them up on the hob.

"Francis," she said finally, hardly above a whisper "I'm starting to rethink the wedding."

He looked around, seeing her still stare at her hands. With a horrid knot building in his stomach, he sat at the table with her.

"Did something happen?" he asked "Did he cheat?"

"No, nothing like that." she confessed, shaking her head lightly "I'm just... so very frightened..."

"Frightened?" he asked seriously "Of Arthur? Did he do something to you? Did he threaten you?!"

Hearing his voice raise, she finally looked up, somewhat surprised. She smiled in that gentle way of hers, shaking her head again.

"He wouldn't do that." she assured him "Never."

"Then what's got you scared?" Francis asked "I never took you for one to get cold feet."

She laughed, half derisively, shaking her head again. She looked all around as if trying to find the words, shaking her head over and over.

"Francis," she started "Francis, please don't find me silly, but... do you... believe in ghosts?"

"Ghosts?" he clarified, sitting back in his chair "I suppose. Anything's possible."

"I didn't used to believe." she confessed "Ghosts, spirits, faeries, goblins... I never thought any of it was real, just old stories told by people who didn't understand the world, but..."

She sighed deeply, shaking her head yet again.

"I saw something." she told him "Something I couldn't explain. You know that old doll house I inherited from grand-mama?"

Francis nodded.

"Well, the furniture stared moving about inside. I thought it was Arthur playing with it – you know how he likes these old things – but then I saw that little rocking chair going back and forth all on its own, and I saw these odd tiny footprints like someone had been walking around in muddy shoes. All of a sudden I felt... very scared. Like I was being watched, like a predator was waiting for me to turn my back so it could pounce..."

Confused and concerned, Francis leaned forward again, listening intently. Marianne laced her fingers tightly as her hands started to shake.

"I told Arthur about it... I thought he would laugh... but he didn't. He called his friends – that strange goth boy and the Norwegian girl with the broken face – and they did... something. I heard such strange things, saw such strange things..."

Seeing her physically start to shake, Francis took his sisters hand, holding it tightly. She looked at him with with eyes full of gratitude, but also pleading.

"Arthur told me that his family was full of spiritualists, but I thought he meant... I don't know, priests, deeply religious people, harmless eccentric kook's with crystal balls and dream catchers, but now that I've seen it myself... It's horrible, Francis, like something out of one of those awful movies! I don't know if I can live my life surrounded by stuff like that."

Francis didn't know what to say – he didn't really believe in stuff like ghosts and spirits, but he believed in his sister, and he believed she really was scared. What kind of weird stuff was the freak Arthur trying to get his sister involved with?

"It's alright." he assured her, squeezing her hand "It's not like anyone's holding a gun to your back – you can still walk away. If you're honestly scared, it's best to walk away before the wedding – it'll be so much harder after."

"It's already next to impossible." she told him "We've be planning our life together for so long, imagining the future without him..."

She sighed, expression softening.

"Besides, I can't raise a baby on my own."

"Baby?!" Francis declared, nearly choking "You're pregnant?!"

"That's why we moved the wedding up a few months: we want to be married before he's born."

"Marianne..."

She chuckled a little, patting his hand.

"I know you and Arthur don't get along, but I hoped you would at least say 'congratulations.'"

"I'm sorry. Of course! Congratulations!"

Francis got up, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Normally he would have jumped for joy at the happy news, but his mind was still puzzling over the previous information. He released her and sat back down, taking her hand again.

"What are you going to do?" he asked seriously "If his family and all his friends are like this, then it's not something that just going to go away."

She sighed through her nose.

"I don't know." she admitted "I love him so much, but I'm so frightened... there must be a way to make this work..."

He should have convinced her to leave him. He should have said he would help take care of the baby, that that man wasn't worth all the stress and fear he would cause her over the years. That weird man and his strange friends and their freakish ways... the only good thing that came out of their marriage was those children. Francis had still never seen a ghost or spirit himself, but he had seen how terrified his sister had been, how she started jumping at shadows and strange noises. He should have been more protective, more observant, around more. He should have done a lot of things, back when his sister was alive. It was too late now.

Too late for Marianne, but Francis was going to be damned if he let the Kirklands strangeness kill Alfred and Madeline as well. He would never forget the day of Marianne's funeral, for more reasons than the obvious: that man looked so pale and withdrawn, like it hadn't been all his fault in the first place. Poor Alfred looked so lost, and Madeline was so confused... Francis felt like he was going to punch him right in his face, if not for his friends holding him back.

He couldn't stand to see his precious niece and nephew surrounded by those people and their strangeness, being enveloped by them, drawn away from him and into that world, into the place that killed their mother. Then that man had the nerve to go and disappear, move away and leave Francis no way of getting in touch with him, taking those children beyond his reach.

When Alfred's school called him, saying the child was sleep deprived and refusing to go home, worried about the strange bruises on his arm and his near hysterical panic at the final bell, he rushed straight down there, running any red lights that came his way. Practically running to the office where Alfred was waiting, Francis could see why the school was concerned: the usually hyperactive child looked like a shadow of his normal self, pale and withdrawn.

Just like his mother had towards the end.

"Alfred!" he called, not even realising himself exactly how much he had missed the tyke until that moment.

Spotting him, the child looked like his saviour had arrived from heaven, jumping up from the plastic chair and running into his arms, almost knocking him over.

"Francis!" he cried "Don't make me go back to that house!"

"Hey, hey, it's alright!" he assured immediately, wrapping an arm around him tightly and stroking his hair "You don't have to go anywhere. You can come home with me."

"Hey."

They looked around, and Francis was immediately irked. The creepy silver-haired doll-girl had matured a little since the last time Francis had seen her, but her complete lack of facial expression was as creepy as ever.

"Luca?" Alfred greeted, confused "What are you doing here?"

"The school called you dad, said something was wrong." she explained in that deadpan manner of hers "He couldn't get off work so he asked me to come and get you. You okay, kiddo?"

"That house is haunted!" he practically yelled "I'm not going back! I'm going to stay with Uncle Francis!"

"Most places are haunted." she replied simply "That's no reason to avoid going anywhere."

Alfred went very stiff, horrified expression on his face. Francis immediately wrapped his arms around him, covering his ears.

"That's enough out of you!" he almost yelled at her "I'm not letting you fill this boys head with your garbage!"

This actually seemed to annoy Luca, as for the first time in all their meetings she pulled an expression.

"Garbage?" she growled.

"That's right, garbage!" he spat "There's no such thing as ghosts! I don't know what's going on in that house or what you freaks are up to, but I won't let you drive these kids crazy!"

He grabbed Alfred by the arm and pulled him down the hall past Luca, who continued to scowl at him.

"Tell Arthur I'll see him in court." he spat.

He suddenly tripped, finding himself landing painfully face first on the ground.

"Francis?" Alfred called in concern, just as surprised as he was "What happened? What was that?"

"Something that doesn't exist." Luca replied coldly.

"You tripped me!" Francis accused.

"Would a broken-faced doll-girl really do such a thing?"

Francis stopped – he had never said those words out loud. Luca looked down at him with those cold blue eyes, almost burning with anger and hatred. She went back to her usual level of expression when she turned to Alfred.

"Why do you say it's haunted?" she asked "What happened?"

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur put the last of the books on the trolley, shoulders and back aching from a long day shifting tomes around. University text books could be heavy bastards, and so could university students – if he found one more food wrapper shoved in between books on the shelves or 'hidden' behind the displays he was going to institute a bag search policy on every single on of them. The sticky, half eaten stuff was the worst (seriously, were these people raised by animals?). At least now it was finished, and he could go home and make dinner.

The school had called him about Alfred – hopefully Luca had picked him up by now. The boy had just started screaming in the middle of the night and refused to go back to sleep, practically running as fast as his legs would carry him to school come morning. What on earth had happened? He was going to get to the bottom of it when he got home. If it was a haunting, then it was a very concerning one – there was no spirit Arthur couldn't see, no ghost that he couldn't communicate with. Who or what was this one that it was able to hide itself from him? Luca's notes from her visit had mentioned a remnant, but such a thing shouldn't have bothered Alfred, especially after she had cleansed it.

"Arthur." a little voice called.

He looked around. A pixie floated at the door, glowing unhappily.

"What is it?" he asked.

"There's someone here." she told him "They've come to see you."

"Someone bad?"

She 'hmm'ed seriously, looking at the door warily.

"I can't tell." she admitted "But his being here's not a good thing."

"I see." he replied "Okay, I'll deal with it."

Straightening his tie, he grabbed his coat and bag and headed for the locked door, ready for whoever stood there. A large man in a cheap suit waited under the foyer, hiding from the heavy rain. He looked up at the sky the way people do when wondering when the rain would stop, looking over as Arthur locked up.

"Mr Kirkland?" he enquired.

"Speaking." he confirmed "I'm afraid the library is closed: you'll have to come back tomorrow."

"I'm not here for a book." he confessed "My name is Ivan Braginski, I'm from Child Protective Services."

Those three words were enough to make him stop in his tracks, turning to him seriously as he pulled on his coat.

"I don't know what Francis has told you, but it's all lies." he said immediately "I can assure you that my children are very well taken care of."

The man examined him with cold eyes, staring at him like he was looking into his soul.

"I don't know who Francis is." he said "But your sons school seems to think you may be having some problems."

"His school?!" Arthur yelled, almost losing his temper completely "The first time I have ever gotten a call from them was today, and they've already called social services on me?! Maybe if they spent more time teaching and less time sticking their nose in, my sons grades would improve!"

Mr. Braginski seemed unfazed by his outburst, hands calmly placed on the top of his umbrella.

"I understand you lost your wife recently." he went on "And you've shown up to Alfred's school drunk a few times. Now he has strange bruises and is refusing to go home. I'm sure you understand that the school is trained to notice such patterns."

"I don't know anything about any bruises!" Arthur argued "But if someone has hurt him, you better believe I'm going to get to the bottom of it. If you'll excuse me, I have to go home and make dinner."

Arthur went to walk past him, but the big man stood in his way, physically stopping him. He was more than a little intimidating.

"Often, families don't realise they're having difficulties until it's too late." he elaborated "I understand you're in mourning, and there are a lot of changes going on in your life right now. I'd rather work with you than against you, Mr Kirkland."

Arthur could feel all the spirits around him tense, like they were ready to pounce on the man. For their sake, Arthur forced himself to remain calm, buttoning his lip for fear of what might come out. After a moment of silence, Mr. Braginski reached inside his coat and pulled out a business card, handing it to him.

"Please call me so we can set up an appointment." he urged "In the meantime, might I recommend that you cut down on the alcohol? For your childrens sake."

Well, that pissed him off. Still, he held his tongue, shoving the card in his pocket and marching around the man. He was certain that Mr. Braginski continued to watch him as he walked to the university car park, but wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of looking around to make sure. Someone was going to be in deep trouble tonight, but who Arthur had yet to decide.

 

* * *

 

 

With Luca fetching Alfred and Arthur working late, Kiku decided he should start on dinner himself. It was probably too late for him to start his own family, but the thought that he made a good wife made him smile. As he chopped the vegetables, he could hear Madeline playing in the living room, talking to herself and laughing. She always did things like that, so he thought nothing of it. Her teacher had said that she seemed a little off today, but perked up again after nap time, so they had both put it down to the move. There certainly seemed to be nothing wrong with her now.

"Madeline!" he called "Come help me shell some peas!"

"Kay!" she yelled back.

A few seconds later she trotted in, put her bear up on the counter and pulled a chair to, climbing up so that she could reach. Kiku gave her a pile of peas and a bowl, putting the sharp knife just out of her reach.

"Who were to talking to?" he asked.

"My friend." she told him as she got to work.

"Oh yeah? Which friend is that?"

"Natalya."

"That's a pretty name." he thought "But I thought her name was Karen?"

"Uncle Kiku, the bears name is Katelyn!" the little girl scolded.

He was pretty sure is had been Karen last week. Although it had been Kitty the week before. Madeline sure did like 'k' names.

"I'm sorry." he chuckled "So Natalya's not the bear?"

"No, Natalya's my friend." she explained "This used to be her house."

"Oh yeah? When was that?"

"A long time ago. She lived here with her dad and her big brother and sister."

"Did she tell you all that? What a nice friend."

"Yeah, she's really pretty too!"

"That's great. You must invite her to dinner some time."

"Can she come today?"

"Not today, sweetie. Wait until we're all moved in first."

"Aww." the child moaned "But she's already here."

"Then you must apologise to her for me. Maybe next time."

Turning around carefully on the chair, Madeline faced the door, steadying herself on the chair back.

"Sorry, Natalya." she said to the air "Uncle Kiku said no."

The phone went in the hall, startling them both a little. Looking at his watch briefly, Kiku made sure the knife was well out of Madeline's reach before going to answer it, wiping his hands on his apron.

"Good evening, Kirkland residence." he greeted as he put the receiver to his ear.

"Kiku, it's Arthur." he heard immediately "Is Alfred home yet?"

"Not yet. Wasn't Luca going to pick him up?"

"She should be back by now." Arthur grumbled.

"Don't fret, I'm sure everything is fine." Kiku reasoned "Do you want me to call her?"

"No, I'll do it." he sighed "How's Madeline? Everything okay there?"

"No complaints." he assured "She even made a new friend."

"Oh yeah? Well, at least that's one good thing. Anyway, I'll be home in about an hour."

"I'll see you then."

With a brief goodbye, he put the phone down. Going back to the kitchen, he spotted that Madeline had wandered off. Where on earth had she gone?

"Madeline?" he called.

He heard her giggle down the hall.

"Madeline, you're supposed to be helping me with the peas." he reminded her.

He walked down the hall, stopping when he felt something wet seep through his slippers. Looking down, he saw little wet footprints leading to the living room.

"What on earth?" he muttered "Madeline, did you go outside barefoot?"

The front door burst open, scaring the living daylights out of him.

"Luca!" he scolded as his heart started beating again "Don't just burst into someone elses house!"

"Who's here?" she demanded, walking straight in with Vlad on her heels (neither of them taking off their shoes).

"Just me and Madeline." he told her "Where's Alfred?"

"It's time you went home, Kiku."

"Don't ignore me."

She did anyway, marching into the living room looking for something. Vlad seemed uncharacteristically serious, looking all about with nary a 'hello'. With an aggravated sigh, Kiku followed Luca.

"About that," he said "You won't get Arthur to pay attention to you by making me leave. You'll just-"

"I don't think you understand." she interrupted.

She pointed to Madeline. Looking over, he saw the little girl sat on the footstool patiently, humming to herself and fiddling with her bear. Her usual pigtails had been taken out, the bright red ribbons being tied in a bow at the top of her head.

Being tied.

By no-one.

A car passed the house, its headlights illuminating the wall. The shadow of another child stood behind Madeline, disappearing as the light receded. Noticing the adults, she smiled.

"Natalya wanted to do my hair." she told them "Is it cute?"

Kiku was struck dumb. His breath caught. He had seen it.

"Like I said." Luca said sternly "Go home."

He needed no more instruction, darting forward and grabbing Madeline away from it. Where was it now? What did it want?

"Hey!" Madeline protested.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." he apologised, holding her tightly "We have to go now."

"But Daddy and Alfred aren't back yet!" she argued.

"We'll call him in the car. Luca, where is Alfred?"

"With Francis."

"Right."

Kiku went for the door. Had he not been freaking out, he would have noticed the watery footprints follow him, running around him to get to the door first. As he reached it, it slammed shut. He backed away, still holding Madeline tightly. Was it there? The door started to rattle violently, opening and slamming closed as if caught in an argument. Vlad pulled Kiku back further, positioning himself between them and the door.

After a moment, the door stopped moving. It creaked back open, almost apologetically. Little footsteps stomped away angrily, past them and up the stairs, up into the walls of the house, disappearing and echoing away. Vlad was noticeably tense.

"Best you get going." he told Kiku "Before the big one changes her mind."

"The big one?" he breathed.

Vlad just nodded, keeping his eyes on something Kiku couldn't see. There was an almighty crash in the kitchen. Something slammed up in Alfred's room. Kiku bolted for the door, grabbing his shoes as he ran.

 

* * *

 

 

"Think they're sisters?" Vlad postured, keeping his eyes on the older girl.

"Looks like it." Luca agreed "All I know is that they weren't here the other day."

"Maybe." Vlad conceded "This doesn't feel like a normal haunting."

The elder sister held the door open, watching them right back. She had short hair and was kind of plain looking, clearly budding into adolescence. Her blue dungarees and white shirt were tattered, her pale skin covered in cuts and bruises.

"Fits the remnant I saw." Luca concluded "Then again, looks a little too old."

"Maybe the little sister was in the cupboard."

"The real question is, where were they hiding? Why didn't Arthur see them?"

The girl let go of the door. It immediately slammed closed. She started walking towards them, movements stilted and juddering like she was walking on broken legs. She opened her mouth and started to cry silently, blood pouring from her eyes. A shrill, inhuman screech resonated through the house, coming not from her, but from the walls, from the very core of the house.

Vlad grabbed his iron cross, Luca pulling her vial from her purse. Troll, Luca's guardian spirit, leapt into the fray, slamming his hand over the door.

"Never mind where they've been." Luca growled "It's time to move them on."

 

* * *

 

 

Alfred felt calmer. He was even starting to think he had imagined the whole thing. Sure, Luca had been oddly serious about the whole thing, but there was no such things as ghosts, right? It was a dream. It had to be a dream.

A damn realistic dream... but these things do happen, every now and then. He had read a study about it once and everything! As for the weird bruise on his arm... well, maybe he had done that to himself, somehow. He was flailing about in his sleep and hit himself very hard on something. That made sense. It all made sense, he just had to convince his subconscious.

Francis had taken him out to dinner to help him calm down – it had worked too: he felt calmer, more normal. That's why he could dismiss the whole thing. He would stay with uncle Francis tonight, get a good nights sleep and everything would be clearer in the morning. His dad would probably laugh at him for getting so hysterical. It was probably just a manifestation of a stress response, something buried deep in his psyche.

He finished washing his face in the restaurant sink, wiping it dry with a hand towel. As he looked up, he saw a boy standing in the bathroom behind him. He was just leant against the wall, watching him. That was weird enough, but he was clearly badly beaten up, and recently to boot. Startled by his appearance, Alfred turn around.

No-one there.

He turned back to the mirror. The boy smiled at him.

He turned around again.

No-one there.

He dare not look back at the mirror – even in the corner of his eye he could see the boy moving, getting closer.

Just another symptom, just a stress response. He practically sprinted for the bathroom door, nearly knocking the poor waiter over as he ran back to his uncle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was once told by my English teacher that I had a very 'matter-of-fact' way of writing, so I'm always worried about creating atmosphere. I've not had any complaints, but it's always in the back on my mind when I'm trying to write. (For those who don't have English as their first language, being 'matter-of-fact' means being very literal and mundane. Like a textbook. Or a dictionary). Still, practice makes perfect.
> 
> All reviews welcome!


	4. Not Good Enough

_Last night I saw upon the stair,_ _  
_ _A little man who wasn't there,_ _  
_ _He wasn't there again today_ _  
_ _Oh, how I wish he'd go away._..

\- Antigonish

 

When Kiku called Arthur from his car on the way to his place to report what had happened, naturally the father of two became concerned. He pulled the car over to the side of the road, irritation and worry growing at every word that met his ear.

"So where is Alfred now?" he asked.

"With Francis." Kiku told him hesitantly, as if he were afraid of his response "He was already at the school when Luca arrived. I think they must have called him."

"What a surprise." he muttered bitterly.

"What's that?"

"I'll tell you later." he promised "In the meantime, can you keep Madeline at yours? I'll deal with Francis after I check in at home."

"Of course." Kiku promised "Please call me as soon as you can."

"Alright, I will."

With a quick goodbye, Arthur hung up and dialled Luca. She picked up after only two rings.

"Little busy!" she replied shortly.

"Kiku called me." Arthur reported "You sound weird. Where are you?"

"Under the dinner table."

"Why?"

"Long story. The important thing in, I'll buy you a new one."

"A new table?"

"... No."

"You better not mean a new house."

"Have some faith in us."

"What's that noise?"

"Nothing."

"Sounds like water."

"It's not."

"And screaming."

"I already said it's not!"

"You need me to come home?"

"Absolutely not!" Luca ordered "These things disappear when you're around. If we want to get rid of them for good, we need to do it without you. If Vlad and I need help, we'll call your brothers!"

"Please don't."

"Take care of your kids, family man!"

Luca hung up, leaving him no room to argue. He shuddered to think what was happening to his house. The repair bill alone... But the kids were okay, and that was the important thing. For now. They better not have burst any pipes. He just bought that house...

Pulling a U-turn, Arthur headed back across town to Francis' loft. He was going to yell himself hoarse at that school tomorrow. Francis may be Alfred's uncle, but he was  _not_  on his list of approved guardians – Luca and Kiku were on the list before him – so the fact that the school had called him pissed him off spectacularly. Alfred had never had any trouble at school, and now they were acting like he was some problem child, even getting social services involved! Yes, he had turned up at Alfred's school to pick him up one or twice drunk, but it's not as if he had been the one driving.

If they were having problems as a family... hell, there was no 'if', he knew that – he had just lost his wife, his children had lost their mother, if that wasn't a 'problem' he didn't know what was. It would take them time to adjust, and they may hit a bump or two along the way, but that's what the extended family was for, right? To pick up the slack.

He sighed out his irritation. No good would come from facing Francis all wound up. He needed to focus on something he knew how to fix. What were those spirits in his house? Why did they disappear when he was around? That wasn't a normal way for spirits to behave. What kind were they, and why didn't he notice them before?

He arrived at his destination before he realised it, lost in his ruminations. The light was on up in the converted warehouse, so the idiot was definitely home. He grumbled as he locked the car door, wishing he hadn't given up smoking if only to have something to do with his hands. He wouldn't want to live in a loft, or in this part of town: he always expected to find some passed out druggie outside Francis' front door, and was eternally surprised every time his car wasn't broken into while waiting outside.

Continuing to grumble and swallowing his pride, he pushed the bell to Francis' room, hoping he would be let in without too much fuss.

"Hello?" came the voice through the speaker moments later.

"Francis, it's Arthur." he greeted, albeit through gritted teeth.

"Arthur doesn't live here." he replied "Try another flat."

He put the receiver down on his end. Fucking prick. Arthur was let in soon enough by one of Francis' neighbours arriving home, having recognised him after so many years of visiting. They chatted politely in the lift until the neighbour got off, at which point he turned to glare at the spirit that lived in the lift.

"Why didn't  _you_  let me in?" he accused.

"I can't leave the lift." it told him in a slow fashion "I don't know why."

"Because you're a moron." Arthur grumbled, but immediately scolded himself for being mean to the poor thing.

It wasn't its fault it was stupid. He arrived at the right floor, storming down the hall and pounding on the gaudy metal door as hard as he dared.

"Francis!"

The door opened quickly, but it wasn't his brother-in-law that stood there. Seeing his son's somewhat confused face, he forced himself to calm down.

"Alfred." he greeted, chewing his tongue a little "There you are. The school called: is everything alright?"

Alfred glanced back into the loft, signalling that Francis was probably listening. The child looked unsure that he wanted to say anything, and was paler than he had been that morning.

"Well..." he started reluctantly, looking at the ground "You'll think I'm crazy..."

"I won't." Arthur promised, stooping down to his level "What's wrong, son?"

"Your family's craziness is starting to infect him, that's what's wrong!"

Arthur stood defensively as Francis appeared behind the boy, pulling the door open completely. The two men glared at each other a moment, neither really wanting to argue in front of the child as they squared each other up.

"Good evening, Francis." Arthur greeted coldly "Thank you for picking Alfred up from school for me. I owe you a favour, it seems. It's getting late, though, so we had best be going."

Alfred opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by his uncle.

"Alfred doesn't want to go anywhere with you!" he spat, almost pulling the poor child back into the flat behind him "I always had you pegged for a freak, Kirkland, but I didn't think you were this sick!"

"What are you talking about?" Arthur demanded defensively.

"You!" Francis went on, jabbing an accusing finger at him "Beating your own child and then convincing him a ghost did it!"

"I didn't lay a hand on him!"

"Then where did all these bruises come from?! You don't expect me to believe that ghost crap too, do you?! I don't know how to brainwashed my sister into believing this shit, but I'm not having it!"

Francis went to slam the door in his face, but Arthur forced it back open, barging into the flat. Francis was forced to retreat, Alfred hiding in the kitchen – he wasn't used to seeing such confrontation.

"As usual, you drunk beanpole, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about!" Arthur yelled at Francis "I haven't laid a hand on Alfred, and I don't know anything about any bruises! I seriously fucking resent your implications!"

"Resent them all you please, the evidence stands for itself!" he retorted "The courts won't believe you crap about ghosts any more than I do!"

"The courts?! Are you serious?!"

"I am!" Francis spat "My lawyer tells me I have a very good chance of getting custody of Alfred and Madeline!"

"Please." Arthur scoffed "He's a lawyer, of course he lied to you. What judge would give you custody? A 40-year-old bachelor living in a flat so tiny that it doesn't even have a bedroom, in a bad part of town, with no regular income and a conga line of sexual conquests so numerous in size that it wouldn't be out of order to speculate that you made your living as a prostitute!"

"I'm a photographer!" Francis screeched, going bright red from ear to ear.

"You're a twat! The only reason you want custody is to force me to bail you out next time to get into financial trouble, which if your past behaviour is anything to go by, should be right around the corner!"

"That is not true!" Francis yelled back "I want to keep those kids away from you freaks! Your ghost and spirit nonsense killed my sister, and I won't let it get them too!"

"Marianne was hit by a car, that wasn't my fault!" Arthur screamed, voice breaking "And I will be dead and rotting in the ground before I let you take my kids away!"

The house phone started to ring, sounding like the ringside bell to announce the end of the round. The men continued to glare at each other, catching their breath, before Francis went to answer it. Arthur forced himself to calm down before turning to his son.

"Alfred, get your bag." he ordered "We're leaving."

"I don't want to go home." the child admitted, trembling slightly from the shock of the row he had just been witness to.

"We aren't going home." Arthur promised "We're going to Kiku's place."

"Eh?"

Alfred looked at him like a angel descended from heaven, full of confusion and gratitude.

"There's a little problem with the new house." his father admitted "It'll be fixed soon."

"Then you believe me?!" Alfred pleaded, grabbing his arms "You believe me about the ghosts?! That there's something there?!"

"Of course I believe you." Arthur promised, putting his hands reassuringly on the boys shoulders "It's... it's complicated. But I do believe you. Go get your stuff, okay?"

Alfred ran to the other side of the room to get his school bag. Francis finished his phone call just as they were headed out the door, smirking triumphantly.

"Well, you'll never guessed who that just was." he smarmed.

"Don't know, don't care." Arthur spat "We're off."

"That was the man from the social services." Francis told them as they opened the door "He said that..."

He trailed off. Right outside the door as if waiting for them, stood silently, was a pale boy with mousey, almost grey hair. He had a creepy smile, eyes fixed on Alfred.

"Oh, hello." Francis greeted awkwardly "I've never seen you before. Did you just move in?"

"You can see him?!" Arthur gasped.

"Of course." Francis responded like it was obvious "Why wouldn't I?"

Alfred was still as a statue, frozen in terror. Noticing something was off, Francis examined the boy carefully, going a little pale when he picked up on the things Arthur had seen immediately.

On the surface, the boy was badly beaten, covered in cuts and bruises, but when you looked closely, you started to see the floor. Right through the middle of the child, like looking through a net curtain. He had no visible feet, legs disappearing into nothing. His hands were too large, ending in crude points rather than fingertips, his mouth too long... the longer you looked, the more uncanny he became. Francis' mouth nearly hung open in horrid wonder as Arthur pulled Alfred behind him.

"This what you saw in the house?" he asked.

"No!" Alfred nearly yelled as he found his voice "I mean... yes, but also no! I don't know! I-"

"It's alright." Arthur assured calmly "Go stand over there."

The boy needed no further invite to run away, bolting to the other side of the room. The ghost followed him with his eyes, still smiling. Arthur examined it carefully – it wasn't normal.

"Young man." he called it.

It ignored him, still staring at Alfred.

Francis started freaking out, breathing quickly and backing away.

"Don't ignore me." Arthur ordered it.

The ghost took a step into the room, completely silently, eyes still trained on the object of its desire. This was definitely not a normal ghost. It sped up, walking right past Arthur.

"Dad!" Alfred all but screamed as is approached him.

Arthur whipped a chalk out of his jacket pocket, throwing it so his son. The boy fumbled as he caught it, still trying desperately to keep away from the ghost.

"Draw a circle around you on the floor!" he ordered "Right now!"

"But I-"

"Trust me!"

With the being fast approaching, Alfred did as instructed, grimacing a little.

"Ugh!" he declared "What is this chalk made of? It's all greasy."

"That'll be fun to explain." Arthur muttered to himself.

The being almost ran into Alfred, looking surprised and confused when it was bumped back at the circle. Alfred fought every urge in his body not to run away, staying firmly within his chalk barricade. Francis just stared, open mouthed and useless. The ghost recovered from its surprise quickly, holding its hands up to Alfred and smiling again.

" _Be my friend_." it asked, voice echoing unnaturally.

"What the fuck are you?!" Alfred yelled back.

Ignoring the language, Arthur rounded on the spirit. He may not know exactly what is was, but he knew one thing about it.

"Young man!" he scolded, his tone causing both boys to flinch "What the devil do you think you're up to? Stop that immediately, or so help me you'll be grounded for the rest of your life!"

Alfred just gave him a look of utter confusion, as if wondering what on earth he had done. The spirit was less confused, shrinking away and holding its hands to its chest protectively, no longer smiling.

"You heard me!" Arthur went on, trying as much as possible to sound like his own father (ugh...) "You keep misbehaving, and so help me I'll put the belt to your thighs!"

The being started trembling, shrinking back further. The cupboards in the kitchen started to rattle, flying open and slamming closed again. Francis nearly screamed, falling to the floor when his bathroom door and clothes cupboard started to do the same. Alfred, though equally terrified, seemed to understand what his father was doing. Arthur felt a little sorry for the spirit, as it seemed genuinely traumatised, frozen to the spot like a beaten puppy as he approached it.

He didn't have his book, but he knew the passages by heart, muttering to himself as he pulled his wand out of his jacket pocket. Alfred looked terrified of him as well as his incantations got louder, the slamming of the cupboard doors faster and harder, the spirit starting to moan and fizzle, still rooted to the spot out of fear of him. He stopped before it, holding his wand high above his head.

"Now!" he declared "By the power vested in me by the world between worlds, by the stars above and the spirits of the dead! Young man!"

The spirit's eyes went hollow, no longer able to run away as Arthur bought his wand down hard.

"You're grounded!"

There was a dazzling flash of light, and for but a second the entire loft was unbearably hot. The second broke as quickly as it began, leaving the three standing there, no sign at all of the spirit. Francis and Alfred looked all about them, dumbfounded, as Arthur put away his wand.

"D-Dad..." Alfred stuttered, trembling and wide-eyed "What the fuck?!"

"Watch your language." he scolded "I'll tell you when we get back to Kiku's place." he sighed "And pray your mother forgives me."

Not having any words to argue with, Francis just sat where he had fallen as Arthur herded Alfred out of the door, flinching with a scream as one of his cupboard doors slammed closed again.


	5. Breaking (In).

Francis didn't believe in fairytale creatures. He believed that only things you could see and feel existed in this world. Well, he had seen that ghost, he had seen it cause havoc in his flat, had felt the terror it instilled in him. Seeing was believing, and he would never again doubt the things his sister had told him.

After picking his shaking carcass up off the floor, he didn't hang around, grabbing the keys to his scooter and running out of the door. He couldn't convince any of his friends to go with him, let alone believe him (even ex-priest Gilbert...), so in desperation called the only person he could think of that would be happy to intervene.

Mr Braginski was already at the house when Francis pulled up, loitering in the darkened street leant against his car, looking less than happy. He tore his eyes away from the house as Francis shut his bike down, stepping off.

"Mr Bonnefoy?" he greeted "I must say I'm quite alarmed to have received your call. Is everything alright?"

"I'll say not!" Francis said immediately "We have to act before those children get killed!"

"That's a serious accusation." Mr Braginski warned "If there's no evidence to back it up, we could both be in a lot of trouble."

The social worker looked around curiously as Francis fished around in his saddlebag, pulling out what he had managed to gather at short notice. He immediately looked concerned.

"Why do you have a bible?" he asked unhappily "Mr. Bonnefoy..."

"'Francis', please." he insisted "And you have to see this yourself! I didn't believe it either, until I saw it! For the children's sake!"

Mr Braginski looked conflicted. He grumbled to himself, scratching his days accumulated stubble.

"I'll give you one chance, Mr... Francis. But if you're wasting my time-"

"I swear, on my sisters grave!" he promised.

Francis turned to the house, which stood silent and dark, just waiting for them. What kind of horrors were lurking there? He had gotten the address off Alfred earlier, and knew the family would be away for the night. Everything looked so normal from the outside...

"Alright, Ivan!" he declared "You're about to see something you never imagined!"

"I'd prefer 'Mr. Braginski'."

Francis ignored him and walked up to the house. Of course the door was locked, so he tried a couple of the windows, sneaking around as to not alert the neighbours.

"Mr Bonnefoy!" Ivan scolded "You're not seriously telling me you're going to break in?! I work for the government, you know!"

"Of course we are!" he insisted "This is a matter of life and death!"

Ivan grumbled again, looking incredibly unhappy.

"I need some proof of that before I can apply for a warrant." he explained "You've not provided any evidence-"

"You can't prove the undead!"

"Pardon?"

"Ah ha!"

The kitchen window was open! No wonder, with Arthur's horrid cooking – they probably needed to air it out. Francis could squeeze in there no problem, then open the door for Ivan.

"Hold these." he insisted, passing his stuff to Ivan.

"Mr Bonnefoy, I can't condone breaking into this house!"

"I'm not asking you to condone it, I'm asking to to hold my stuff."

Ivan was clearly re-thinking his involvement in the enterprise as he watched Francis shimmy through the open window, but his concern for the children's well-being kept him from just going home. How was he going to explain this to his superior?

The house was exactly what one would expect, with moving boxes still piled up in the corners and along the walls, half unpacked with knick-knacks in odd places. Francis looked around incredibly cautiously, as if expecting a poltergeist to run at him, or that horrid woman from the Grudge to stretch down from the ceiling. Spying nothing in the immediate area, he unlocked the door to a frowning Ivan.

"I'm not coming in." he insisted.

"Yes you are."

"I'll lose my job."

"No you won't." Francis promised "It's just you and me here, and I won't tell anyone."

"And if the police turn up? Or if the Kirkland's come home? How will you explain what we're doing?"

"I'll say we were trying to stop me." he swore "Besides, the more witnesses to this, the better!"

Ivan sighed miserably, looking like he really, really didn't want to come in. Francis took his stuff back and led the way into the house.

"How did you know no-one was going to be home?" Ivan asked.

"I picked Alfred up from school." Francis explained as he started to poke around the kitchen, jiggling the handle of the long-locked basement door "Arthur came to get him, and mentioned they were staying at his odd friends house."

"'Odd friend'?" Ivan pondered, following him carefully into the house "Do you and Mr Kirkland get along?"

"Not at all." Francis confessed, clicking on his torch and taking a good look around "He's weird and loud and far too rough a character. He wasn't good enough for my sister."

"I see. What kind of father is he?"

"Just to piss me off, he's actually a pretty good one." he grumbled "He's a disciplinarian, but he also spoils them."

"Do you believe he's been abusing them?"

"To be honest, I didn't." he admitted, not realising the social worker was watching him intently "I was pretty surprised when the school called me. Now that I know what the truth is, I'm going to put a stop to it!"

"Are you looking to get custody of your sisters children?"

"Of course! Marianne would never forgive me if I let something happen to them!"

"And if it turns out the allegations are false?"

"That's what we're doing here!"

Ivan pulled that unhappy face again, definitely regretting answering the phone to Francis that evening. He mentally logged the information for the report he was sure he was going to have to write later.

After pottering around in the kitchen, they walked into the hallway.

"Alright, where's the living room?" Francis wondered.

"That one there." Ivan pointed out.

"You've been here before?"

"... Not for a while."

Oblivious to his companions obvious tenseness, Francis looked all around the hall. Things in here were a mess, with broken vases and glass all around like there had been a massive fight. There was strange writing all over the walls, and oddly large hand prints on the floor and surfaces. They were bigger even than Ivan's – nothing like that creepy little boy Francis saw at his place. Were they dealing with more than one ghost?

"I'll check down here, you look upstairs!" he ordered.

"And why exactly am I looking for?" Ivan asked.

"Trust me, you'll know it when you see it!"

* * *

 

 

Ivan was unhappy. Miserable. Downright depressed. He was putting his job at serious risk here, and even if they did find any evidence that Arthur had been abusing his son, they probably wouldn't be able to use it in court. He'd do anything to protect those children, but he really, really didn't want to be here. This place was just not good for him. He was already so stressed...

The house was barely recognisable. It was older, of course, and the wallpaper hadn't changed, but it was full of nice furniture and toys and children's finger paintings up on the walls. The only alcohol he saw was one bottle of brandy in the kitchen, and his experience told him that if Arthur had been an alcoholic, there'd be far more about. That he had showed up at his son's school drunk was of course concerning, but his wife had just died, and very suddenly to boot. He had faith that he could counsel the family to resolve their problems. Child Protective Services was far too often used as a weapon by warring families, so Ivan didn't immediately believe what Francis said to him (especially as he admitted to not liking his brother-in-law), and breaking into his house didn't exactly lend his claims validity.

What kind of evidence did Francis imagine he was looking for? Photographs? A bloody stick? How crass. And what on earth was that stuff for? A bible, a cross, a vial of water... was he looking for vampires?

Ivan decided to check the rooms one by one, starting at the far end of the hall. It was a guest room, it seemed, but already looked lived-in. Arthur's 'odd friend'? If someone else was living here, Ivan should include them in his counselling – the better the support network, the better for the family. There was also the possibility that the friend was the one who had hit Alfred. He would have to ask questions when he made his official visit...

The next room was the little girls room. Messy, full of bright colours and soft toys, crayons all over the floor... it was nice. He squatted down to get a child's-eye-view, appreciating the ambience of it. In his line of work, he didn't often get to see rooms like this. Sure, it needed decorating and was only half unpacked, but that was okay. He had seen far worse. Before, for example...

He shook his head, pushing down the sickness that rose within him. There was nothing unusual here, so he stood, feeling like he was extra stupid for being here.

He startled as he heard a little girl laugh. Had he imagined that? Surely not. He heard it again, clear as day, in the hallway. Had... had Arthur Kirkland left his little girl here all alone?! Ivan went back into the hall, looking all around. It was a lot brighter than it had been when he went into the room, almost daylight bright. Where was this light coming from?

"Hello?" he called into the hallway "Little girl?"

The little girl laughed again, and he heard her scamper across the floor.

"Hello?" he called again, walking cautiously down the hall as not to scare her "I'm not a burglar. My name is Ivan, I'm here with your Uncle Francis. What's your name, sweetie?"

With a sudden scampering, a little girl darted from one of the rooms and into the bathroom, the light clicking on. She was small, and had pretty silver-blonde hair. Much like...no, never mind. Putting on his best smile, he walked down and poked his head around the door.

"Hello?"

No-one there. Was she hiding now? He stepped into the bathroom, which was bizarrely cold for this time of year. Aside from the shower curtain over the bath, there wasn't really anywhere to hide. The bathtub was full of water, which seemed to be pulling the heat right from the air. Hang on, were those feet?!

He threw the curtain back. The little girl was in the water! She wasn't moving! He dove in, grabbing her and pulling her out. The water was Arctic cold, physically hurting him as he plunged his arms in. The moment he pulled her from the water, she almost popped in his hands, melting back into the bath and disappearing.

Ivan stared at his empty, sodden arms. His brain stopped working, his heart beating a million miles a second. That silver-blonde hair, that pretty face...

"Natalya..." he breathed, voice shaking, his whole body trembling "Natalya. Natalya!"

He desperately threw his arms back into the water, clawing at the frigid liquid, trying to grab something, grab anything!

"NATALYA!"

"Ivan!"

He startled, looking around as he was called. He knew that voice.

"Kat?"

"Ivan!" she called again "Ivan, I have something for you. Come here!"

"But, Natalya..."

He looked back to the bath. Empty. The water was gone. His arms were bone dry.

"Ivan!" Kat called again.

Ivan stood, following the voice without thought. He went into Kat's room, barely registering that it was full of Alfred's furniture.

"Kat?" he called, looking around "Where are you?"

"It's in the cupboard." her voice told him "On the shelf."

Ivan looked at the cupboard. His spine froze as it stood open, dark and hungry, waiting for him.

"I don't want to go there." he whispered.

"Ivan, be a dear." Kat requested "Get it down for me."

The inside of the cupboard lit up, revealing the box she wanted him to get down. He could never say no to Kat... He walked over and reached up to get the box off the shelf. With the sudden slam of the door, he was inside the cupboard, plunged into darkness. He spun around to open it, shoulders banging painfully against the walls. The door was solid in front of him, not budging, heavy like it was being held closed.

"Kat!" he called "Kat, let me out!"

He banged on the door, the solid wood hurting his hands.

"Let me out! Let me out!"

He started to get desperate, clawing at the door.

"LET ME OUT!"

"Ivan!"

The door opened, Ivan tumbling out, back into the room. It was night again. He sat with his arms around his knees, Francis staring at him bewildered.

"Ivan." he called again "Why are you sat in the cupboard?"

Ivan startled, scurrying out of the cupboard and away from it, practically crawling.

"The door!" he yelled "Don't close the door!"

"Door?" Francis looked back at the cupboard, then to Ivan, kneeling down cautiously.

"Ivan," he said carefully, reaching out his hand "There's no door on that cupboard."

"Wha..."

Ivan looked back at the cupboard in the wall. There really was no door. But... it had just slammed, he had just been shut in there. He startled again as Francis grabbed his arm.

"You saw it, didn't you?" he asked "You saw the ghost!"

"W-what? No!" Ivan stuttered, stumbling to his feet defensively "There's no such thing as ghosts! Don't make fun of me!"

"Ivan-"

"This whole fiasco is ludicrous! Not to mention illegal!" he yelled "There's no evidence of anything wrong here! You're just wasting my time!"

He stormed out of the room, marching down the darkened hall to the stairs. Francis followed him quickly, begging him to stop.

"What did you see?" he begged "What happened?! Please, we have to stop that ghost! For the children's sake!"

"There's no such thing as gh-!"

Ivan froze. Francis startled at his sudden stop, backing away a little. Back in the room, illuminated by the moonlight from the window behind her, stood a single figure. A figure he knew well.

"Kat..." he mumbled "That's impossible..."

Francis looked back, jumping at the sight of her.

"That's not the same one as before!" he declared, holding his cross out in front of him like a shield "What kind of horror house is this?!"

Kat moved unnaturally, juddering in place.

"Ivan." she said, voice hollow and static "Ivan, it's very late. You need to go to bed."

"Eh?" Francis looked around at him "How does it know your name?"

"Ivan." she called again.

"This is impossible." he said to himself "You're not a little girl anymore."

"Ivan, father is going to get mad."

He ignored her, tearing away and down the stairs, followed quickly by Francis.

"I never should have come here!" he declared.

As his foot hit the bottom step, the world lit up again. All the furniture and moving boxes disappeared, and the house became the way he remembered it: sparse, dirty, and tense. The clink of bottles met his ears, sending horrid shivers down his spine. He hardly dared look around as the sound got closer, step by step.

The front door burst open, night once again engulfing them.

"Arthur!" Francis startled, trying in vain to hide behind Ivan.

Still frozen in place, Ivan looked at the front door. Arthur stood there dramatically, angry, but not at all surprised to see them there.

"Gentlemen." he greeted coldly.

"I can explain!" Francis swore "Don't call the police!"

"Really?"

Francis held his bible above his head to show it to Arthur.

"I came to kill the ghost!" he declared.

"With a bible?" Arthur asked, incredulous "What were you planning on doing, confusing it to death?"

"But... it's a bible! The power of Christ compels you and all that crap!"

"This isn't a movie, idiot."

Arthur came into the house, closing the door behind him.

"Don't close the door!" Francis insisted "The ghost will come back! Where are the kids?!"

"This kids are fine." Arthur sighed "And the ghost is right here."

He looked right into Ivan's eyes, his expression piercing.

"Aren't you?"

 

* * *

 

 

"A living ghost?"

"It's a rare phenomenon." Arthur admitted as he poured the tea "A lot of factors need to come together to make it happen."

"I don't understand." Ivan muttered.

Arthur put the kettle down, sitting beside him and looking at him compassionately.

"You lived in this house before, didn't you?" he clarified "You father was abusive to you and your sisters."

Both Ivan and Francis were left speechless, if only by the audacity of the accusation. Ivan opened his mouth to deny it, but just being here was draining everything he had. He closed his mouth and nodded. Arthur patted his arm reassuringly.

"The 'ghosts' of your sisters were perfectly formed." he explained "But yours wasn't, because no-one looks like what they feel they look like. That was my first clue as to what was really going on. Whenever you thought about what happened here in this house, the hauntings occured. Your deep-seated fear of your father caused them to disappear whenever I showed up, and your concern for Alfred's safety caused your 'ghost' to follow him around."

"So the bruises... was me?" Ivan asked, still not able to fully grasp the situation.

"Inadvertently, yes."

"I don't understand." Francis admitted "How can a living person cause something like this to happen?"

"What you understand as 'ghosts' are very rarely dead people." Arthur told him "They're usually something left behind by the living, as the result of some traumatic event or obsessive, twisted desire. The human soul has to physically get rid of them, like the psyche suppresses bad memories – it's a form of self-preservation. If they're tangible we call them 'remnants' – they're the ones you see or feel, the ones that affect you physically. There were many remnants in this house, from both you and your sisters."

"My sisters aren't dead." Ivan told him, hands around his teacup like the scolding porcelain was keeping him sober "Why did I see their ghosts?"

"They were physiological manifestations." he explained "Of the way you remember them, here in this house."

Ivan started to break down, shoulders slumping significantly. He felt like he was struggling to breathe, like his soul was being laid bare to everyone to see his horrible, bleeding secrets. Arthur rubbed his back like he was an upset child, Francis sat impotently on his other side.

"What do I have to do?" he asked "To stop this from happening again?"

"You never got counselling or psychological help, did you?" Arthur asked.

Ivan shook his head.

"Such things weren't common back then." he admitted "When my sisters and I were put into care... our foster parents are great people, but they never could have afforded it."

"I can recommend a doctor." Arthur assured "Someone who's affiliated with us."

"And that will stop it?"

"All psychological treatments take time. But eventually, if you take your counselling seriously, then yes."

"I don't want to hurt your children." Ivan squeaked, feeling his throat tighten "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You won't." Arthur assured "Now that I know what the problem is, I know how to deal with the 'hauntings'."

Tears finally started falling from the big man's eyes. He felt physically sick, but let himself be comforted by Arthur. Francis startled as he saw the Natalya ghost poking her head around the door, but Arthur ignored it, continuing to rub Ivan's back soothingly.


	6. The Basement

_'There was a crooked man...'_

With autumn having been so eventful, the start of winter was almost disappointing in its mundaneness. The 'hauntings', as they were, stopped fairly quickly, now that they had the right kinds of wards in the house, and the cause of them was finally getting the long overdue psychiatric help that he needed. The most exciting changes were taking place in young Alfred's life – while he didn't have the sight the rest of the Kirkland line did, he was determined not to become the plaything of another ghost (living or otherwise), and eagerly soaked up any and all information his father and 'ghost busting friends' (as he had dubbed them) were willing to tell him.

After putting the wards up, the next step was to redecorate the old house. Francis was a massive pain in the arse the entire time, and  _always_  had an opinion, but as he paid for a lot of the paint and did most of the labour, Arthur couldn't really get mad at him. Out loud. What really pissed Arthur off was that Francis hardly ever went home, leaving only long enough to conduct his precious photo shoots and grab a change of clothes from his loft – in 15 years, Arthur hadn't seen as much of this brother-in-law as he had in the past couple of months. While this meant that Kiku got a break from babysitting every now and then, his flamboyancy grated on the maths teachers nerves more than a little.

"All the wiring and plumbing has been updated, and we've just finished the painting and decorating." Arthur explained as he showed Ivan around the house one winters afternoon "As you can see, we're all fully unpacked, and the kids are nice and settled."

"I don't even recognise the place." Ivan complimented, writing notes on his paperwork "It's clear you've all put a lot of work in. How's your drinking these days? Have you taken up any of my recommendations?"

"I told you before that I don't make a habit that kind of thing." Arthur reminded him "But since you flagged it up anyway, I decided to remove temptation: there's no alcohol in the house, and there won't be for the foreseeable future."

"A good step." Ivan agreed "But what's to stop you buying more?"

"Nagging." Arthur answered simply "About the only one who doesn't nag me is Madeline."

Ivan chuckled, making more notes.

"The school has reported no more problems with Alfred." he admitted "And I can see that things here are progressing very well. I see no reason for child protective services to be involved with your family any longer."

Ivan snapped his notebook closed happily, putting a full stop on his investigation, and slipping his pen back into his coat pocket.

"Well, that's jolly good!" Arthur declared "I have to admit, though, you had some pretty good advice for us along the way."

"Well, that's my job." Ivan blushed happily.

"Speaking of things being good, how are you doing?" Arthur asked carefully "How's therapy going?"

"It's... going well, actually." Ivan admitted "I'm facing a lot of things, but I feel like I'm making real progress. Have there been any more 'hauntings'?"

"Not for a while." he reported.

"Arthur!" Francis called as he floated in from the kitchen "We're about to open it up."

"Be right there."

"Open it up?" Ivan enquired.

"The basement." Arthur told him "It's the last thing on our list. It's been locked up a long time, so hopefully nothing died down there."

"It's been locked since I was a kid." Ivan recalled awkwardly "My father had the key... I really don't know what's down there."

"Well, now's your chance to find out." Francis sung "Come on, we've been waiting weeks for this!"

 

* * *

 

 

"So how did you learn how to control a troll anyway?" Alfred asked Luca, bored of studying the old tomes she had bought him.

"I don't 'control' troll." she corrected, playfully tying up Madeline's hair "Troll is my friend."

"Okay." he accepted "How do you become friends with trolls, then?"

Madeline suddenly sat up, startling them both, and looked out of her bedroom door, trying to see the stairs.

"What's up, Mads?" Alfred asked her, chuckling a little at her odd behaviour.

"Daddy's going to open the basement." she told them.

"About time." Luca complained "I want my games room."

"You don't even live here!" Alfred laughed "Shall we go check it out?"

"I don't want to." Madeline insisted immediately, shaking her head.

"Well, I do." Luca admitted, getting up "Troll doesn't like basements, so he'll stay with Mads."

"Cool. Be right back, Madeline."

"You shouldn't go down there." she warned, but was ignored as the elder two left the room.

 

* * *

 

 

"So, where exactly did you learn how to do this?" Arthur asked.

"You know Mr. Karpouzi, the history teacher?" Kiku explained, knelt down in front of the basement door with wire in his fingers, fiddling with the lock.

"And where did he learn it?"

"I prefer not to ask."

With a satisfying rusty  _clink_ , the door unlocked. The hinges were so stiff from over a decade of not being used that it took the combined strength of Arthur, Francis and Ivan to get it open. Alfred could hardly be constrained, trying desperately to look into the room past them, letting out a disappointed groan when he finally got a clear view.

"A brick wall?" he complained "No wonder the door was locked. That's dumb."

"Too bad." Luca said quickly "Guess we better go back upstairs."

She grabbed the boy by the shoulder and herded him out. Being as experienced in the world between as she was, she saw immediately what was making Arthur and Kiku so tense.

"Weird." Francis muttered, poking at the wall "All the mortar is on the other side."

"Francis, why don't you take the kids out for dinner?" Arthur suggested "Right now."

"Ha?"

Francis looked at him, confused for a moment. The truth dawned on him and he turned on Arthur, putting his hands on his hips.

"Nu-uh, no way!" he argued "You promised me, no secrets!"

"I made no such promise."

"Arthur Kirkland, I am not my sister!" Francis reminded him "I will not live in ignorance... anymore! If there's something ominous on the other side of that wall then I want to know about it!"

"Keep your voice down." Arthur hissed "You want to bring Alfred back in here? Use your head!"

"It appears the wall was constructed from within the basement." Kiku summarised.

He knelt down again, picking something up off the ground from the other side of the door. He held up the old brass key as he stood.

"After the basement door was locked." he finished.

They turned to Ivan, who had gone a strange shade of grey. It was clear what horrible thoughts were going on in his head, violet eyes dilated and fixed on the door. Arthur placed a hand on his arm carefully, making him jump.

"You don't have to be here." he told him "Who don't you go home?"

Ivan thought a moment, then shook his head.

"No." he decided "If there is something down there, I should see it. Closure is good for me and all that. Besides, there could be nothing down there."

"That's unlikely." Kiku warned.

"I have a sledgehammer in my truck." Ivan told them, getting self concious when he realised how odd that was "My... sister is doing some renovation. We're tearing down a wall to pull a conservatory up..."

"You probably won't need it." Francis figured, examining the wall again "This wasn't a good job when it was new. A strong boot would probably bring it down."

Ivan provided that boot, kicking it with the energy of a decade of repressed fury. As predicted, it came down pretty easily, but Ivan did jump back, steadying himself on the table as he swore, cradling his shin.

"You know, those are loafers, not boots."

"Shut up, Francis."

A unanimous cry of 'UGH!' and desperate covering of noses spread through the kitchen. Kiku ran and opened all the windows he could find, Francis throwing open the back door.

"Something definitely died down there." Arthur knew.

"Dad, what's the smell?" Alfred called down the stairs.

"Burst pipe." his father lied.

"Gross." they heard Alfred mutter before going back into his room.

"Why are you still lying to him?" Francis asked, sounding funny with his nose still covered "I thought you were teaching him all that now."

"Force of habit." Arthur supposed "Besides, you want a twelve year old boy to see a corpse?"

"Absolutely not." Ivan answered for him.

Kiku passed Arthur a torch.

"Between the old wiring and the gases, I don't think it's safe to turn on the light." he figured.

"Good thinking." Arthur agreed, sighing in aggravation "Well, now's as good a time as any."

 

* * *

 

 

Alfred could see Luca was on edge, back stiff with her eyes on the door. Madeline didn't look too happy either, but that could have just been down to that awful smell. It didn't really smell like a burst pipe to him, but if it had been sitting there in the basement long enough then god only knows how rotten it would be down there by now. They should probably take Madeline somewhere else until it was all cleaned up.

Alfred got up, throwing on his coat to do just that.

"Hey, curly, let's go down the park!" he suggested "I'll push you on the swings."

"Okay." the little girl agreed immediately, putting down her bear.

Alfred went to get her coat from her room, stopping when he noticed someone else stood in the hall with him.

"Mr Braginski?" he figured by the size of him, not able to see him clearly through the dim "Come to say goodbye?"

Alfred waited, but no response was forthcoming. The figure just stood there, staring at nothing. He was standing really strangely... A creeping sense of unease spread over him.

"Mr Braginski?"

Slowly, as if badly hung over, the figure turned to face him. Even without seeing the details on his face, Alfred knew that it wasn't Mr Braginski. He backed away, regretting getting it's attention. Weren't the wards supposed to stop things like this? Was Mr Braginski having another episode?

"Luca!" he called.

The shadow turned to him suddenly, too abruptly to be natural. All thought left his mind, his breath caught.

 

* * *

 

 

The basement stairs were nearly rotten, the air dank and close. Ivan stuck close to Arthur as they descended cautiously, Kiku staying at the top to make sure the door stayed open. Francis stayed at the top too, more out of concern for his hair.

Arthur shone the torch all around as they reached the bottom step. It looked as dank as it smelled, with mould covering the walls. It probably had a damp problem, and that would cost a lot to fix... There was decrepit furniture about, the kind that was worthless even when it was new, and the lack of dust betrayed how the room had been completely shut up: not even a rat had been in here.

"I've been some pretty foul places." Ivan told Arthur "But I've never smelled anything like this."

"I have." Arthur admitted "It never means anything good."

"Do you deal with a lot of thing like this?"

"You'd be shocked. Most 'hauntings' and the like are a result of something recent, so we find a lot of bodies when we investigate."

"Sounds disturbing. Have you considered counselling?"

They both stopped as something in the corner caught their eye, Ivan going very stiff again. Shining the light on it, Arthur tried not to recoil – in these conditions, the body was nearly mummified, the sunken skin having gone leathery and brown. This state was what was keeping the body in the noose, the flesh fused to the rope. One of his shoes had fallen off, but everything else hung, suspended in a grotesque tableaux. The face, although half rotted, was well preserved enough that Arthur would see the resemblance at once.

Despite the low ceiling, Ivan stood very straight, squaring his shoulders against the hanging corpse.

"Hello, father."

 

* * *

 

 

Alfred had nowhere near enough training to deal with this. This wasn't like that boy from before – the ghost of the young Mr Braginski – this one wasn't just watching him. Alfred felt threatened, physically in danger. Being a smart boy, he turned tail and ran back for his room where Madeline and Luca were. The spirit was faster, grabbing him by the collar before he could go more than a step.

"Luca!"

Alfred was pulled back roughly, yanked right off his feet. Before he could even swear, everything around him went black, the deafening sound of a door slamming echoing all around. His back slammed into something solid, making him stumble. Flailing for an anchor, his elbow hit something else, cluttering loudly as he fell. It felt like... a wall? His feet pressed against something solid in front of him.

Starting to panic, he got to his knees, feeling all around: a very small room, with a door in front of him. Getting to his feet, his head hit something, causing a familiar rattle. Coat hangers? A cupboard? Cupboard... the one in his bedroom?! But, they took the door off! As his hands felt about the wood, he could feel the scratches, carved deep into the door, that he had seen before. Starting to panic, he pounded on the door.

"Dad!" he called, as loudly as his lungs could manage "DAD!"

He pounded as hard as he could in the cramped space, but it was so dark he couldn't even see his hands. It was starting to get cold, the air thin like midnight in winter.

"DAD!" he almost screamed "I CAN'T GET OUT! LET ME OUT!"

His father couldn't hear him – the basement was too far away! Who was... Luca!

"Lu-"

He stopped. Madeline. Luca was with Madeline! He couldn't let that man get to Madeline! If Luca left her to help him, that man would get her! The temperature continued to plummet, making Alfred drowsy. His head grew light as his breathing got more difficult, the air almost disappearing around him.

"Dad!" he called again, unable to shout as his consciousness waned "Da... Maddy... Ma... Mum..."

His knees hit the floor, his back hitting the wall as he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

 

"Ivan, why don't you go home?" Arthur suggested gently, putting a hand on his arm "You don't have to deal with this."

Ivan shook his head, eyes on the hanging man. They were cold and furious. Anger flashed across his face, but soon faded, replaced by emptiness and pity.

"Our foster parents forbade him from ever seeing us." he told Arthur "I never knew what happened to him after my sisters and I left this house. So this was his end..."

He walked up to the corpse. Even hanging, Ivan was taller, his girth dwarfing what was left of his father significantly. He looked at it like a pathetic thing, not even worthy of his anger.

"I swear, you used to be taller." he said, hardly above a whisper.

"Ivan." Arthur said again "You know we have to call the police."

He turned his head in Arthur's direction, indicating that he had heard him, but gave no other reaction. He kept his eyes on the corpse.

"Half of me wants to thank you." he told it "Because of you, I've saved hundreds of children, devoted my life to stopping people like you. The other half of me wants to punch you in the face. I hate you more than I can ever say in words. You caused me and my sisters untold misery, and yet... now that I see you again, you seem so pathetic and small..."

Arthur didn't know what to say, standing impotently behind him. Still not sure what to do, Ivan grabbed the rope.

 

* * *

 

 

Alfred was fading in and out of consciousness. His arms felt like jelly, completely zapped of his strength. He could hardly breath, the cold surrounding him like a vice. He wanted to scream, yell for help, but just couldn't. He could hear a man yelling, a young girl screaming and crying, but even in his half-sleeping state he knew it wasn't his father, that it wasn't Madeline. Someone was pounding on the door from the outside.

He felt so helpless. What was going on? Was he going to die? He wanted his mother. More than anything, he wanted his mother. His father couldn't hear him. Was that ghost going to kill him? Was this his end? What was going to happen to Madeline?

"Mum..." he whimpered impotently, his breath freezing the inside of his mouth.

As his mind came and went, it took a moment to realise his name was being called. The voice was calm, soft and familiar.

"Alfred." it called "Where are you hiding?"

Using what strength he had left, he hit the door again, but it hardly made a sound. There was no way he would be heard.

 

* * *

 

 

There was no way Ivan could undo the decades-long tied knot, but the old rope tore easily against the steady beam it was looped over. The mummified body moved in one solid piece, the neck bent over almost twice the length from having been hung so long. He pulled it down with no reverence or formality, regarding it the same as if they had found some petrified animal amongst the boxes and furniture. Perhaps, in his mind, they had.

With a final, scornful glance, he dropped it to the ground, the smell growing far worse as the flesh tore. Ivan turned his back on it, turning to Arthur.

"We should call the police." he agreed "Let them know they have some trash to pick up."

"Ivan-"

"It's alright." he assured "This man... what's left of him... he has no power any more. Let's go back upstairs – god only knows what kind of germs are down here."

 

* * *

 

 

Alfred realised that he could see his hands, just visible in front of him. Where was the light coming from? His head felt a little clearer, allowing him to think. He looked around – it was coming from the door frame, peaking in through the gaps. The light was bright, almost burningly so, and radiated warmth.

"Alfred." the voice called again, sounding much closer and clearer "Sweetheart?"

He knew that voice...

"Mum?"

The door clicked, shuddering a moment before opening. The light blinded him, forcing him to cover his eyes. From within the light, he heard a friendly laugh.

"There you are."

He was grabbed roughly by the front of his shirt, unceremoniously hauled out of the cupboard. The light disappeared, Alfred finding himself back in his room, falling against Luca as she pulled him with all her might. They both hit the ground hard, the twelve-year-old being almost as big as the little woman. She swore, spitting the word out like it tasted bad in her mouth, throwing a flood of holy water over the cupboard.

"Troll, the door!" she yelled "ARTHUR!"

Alfred was panting, desperately trying to catch his breath, as someone thundered up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

 

Hearing the panicked yell as he reached the top of the basement stairs, Arthur wasted no time bolting for his children's rooms. He swore as he reached the landing, startled by what greeted him: a spectre, undoubtedly the previous Mr Braginski, stood in his hallway, shoulders haunched like a vulture. His feet didn't touch the ground, neck still crooked and bent from where it had hung. Troll stood like a barrier in the doorway to Alfred's room, undoubtedly where Luca and the children were.

This was definitely not one of Ivan's projections. That man had meant this house to be his tomb, and wasn't happy with the interlopers. Well tough – this was their house now. Arthur pulled his wand out of his pocket, ready as the spectre turned it's attention to him. It had the hollow eyes and sunken cheeks typical of alcoholics, its body swinging at the pivot of its neck.

"Disobedient children need to be punished." it recited like a mantra, more of a long-held echo than a conscious thought "I'm their father, it's my responsibility."

"Your children are gone." Arthur hissed at it "These ones are mine, and I'm not letting you near them! HOATA!"

He shot a bolt at the spectre, hitting it square in the chest. It stumbled back with the reflexes of a drunkard. The taps in the bathroom exploded, sending water shooting up to the ceiling – shit, he just put those in last week! He shot at it again, forcing it against the wall. The smell coming off of it was revolting, so much so that even troll had to snort it out, his powerful breath filling the hall with smoke and fog.

Arthur coughed, covering his mouth and nose as the corridor filled. Troll could usually be relied upon in a fight – unless Luca ordered him otherwise. Was he guarding the door to stop the spectre entering? Arthur was hauled back, yanked by his neck roughly. The force knocked the wind from him, squeezing his throat, stopping him breathing. The spectre disappeared in the haze.

"Arthur, what's going on?" Kiku yelled up the stairs.

"Stay back!" he ordered "The spectre escaped from the basement!"

"The  _what_?"

He was knocked off his feet again, pulled by the neck. It felt like something was tightening around it, choking the air out of him. He raised his wand in self defence, but he couldn't just go blasting off at random – it he hit someone living, it would be bad news! Blinded by the fog, he swung his wand hard, hoping to strike the spectre, but the floor disappeared beneath the heel of his foot.

Still being pulled by the neck, he flailed about for the banister, grabbing for it to stop himself falling. His aim failed him, and with a gut lurching swing, he start to fall. Almost instantly, his back hit solid concrete, knocking the wind right out of him. Concrete? And UGH, the rancid smell! He opened his eyes, the brick and wood basement stairs greeting his blurred vision. What was that sound?

Up above, the light started to disappear, cutting off in blocks. The sound was rough and dull, somewhat familiar... Arthur swore loudly, jumping up as quickly as his aching back would let him and running up the stairs. His leg immediately gave way beneath him, making him stumble – god, he hoped he hadn't broken it. His neck was still burning, but he carried on, hobbling up, supporting himself on the wall – he was not going to be bricked in!

He reached the top of the stairs just a the last brick slotted into place, swearing loudly. He reached for his wand, only to find it missing – had he dropped it in the fall? It wasn't at the bottom of the stairs! Curses! With no other option, he started pounding on the bricks, praying the mortar wasn't set.

 

* * *

 

 

Seeing Arthur hauled down the stairs, Luca jumped into action, pulling her revolver from it's hidden holster. Troll jumped away from the door, scooping Madeline and Alfred out of the way.

"What's a gun going to do against a ghost?" Alfred cried.

"Not a damn thing." she admitted "This is  _my_  magic wand."

She squeezed the trigger, launching a bolt of magic at the spectre. She sucked her teeth as she hit it in the shoulder – this smoke was throwing off her aim. Good one, troll. Taking aim again, the spectre turned to her, swinging on its neck.

"Katyusha," it called to her, voice echoing and distant "Why do you still defy me?"

Katyusha? One of Ivan's sisters?

"Woman's prerogative." she spat, shooting it again.

This one hit it right in the chest, forcing it back and blowing a hole right through it. A torrent of liquid burst from it chest, showering the freshly painted hall. Luca ducked behind the door as it shot through the entrance. It was truly putrid, like bile, vomit and Gin. Ugh. Madeline started screaming and crying, inconsolable as troll tried to keep her out of the way. Pissed, Luca jumped out of cover, determined to make this thing die. Arthur better not have broken his neck!

Before she could raise her revolver, she was hit in the chest by another torrent of bile, knocking her off her feet. God, it was sticky! It clung to her, gluing her to the floor. She couldn't get up! She swore, but no amount of force freed her from the sludge.

"Luca!" Alfred cried, also trying to break free of troll.

"Don't move!" she ordered "Don't touch this!"

Madeline screamed shrill enough to break glass. The spectre loomed at the door, the wallpaper peeling and rotting just from its presence. She still couldn't move! With a lurch, the spectre was pulled back. Luca didn't even care where Ivan had gotten the rope, or how he even made it work, but he had it noosed around the spectres neck, hauling it away from the door. It rounded on him, cold and furious.

"Government meddler!" it accused "Who are you to say what's best for my children?!"

The spectre shot another torrent at Ivan, bowling the big man off his feet. He was unconscious before he hit the ground, the spectres power knocking him for six. Noose still around its crooked shoulders, it turned back to the door.

 

* * *

 

 

No amount of pushing and banging was making the bricks move, and that smell was making him gag. Curse that spectre! He was starting to get desperate, imagination running a mile a minute: he had to get to his children! At least Luca was there, but she shouldn't take on that thing alone! He swore loudly, the smell and dank finally making him throw up.

The bricks shook violently, as if something had impacted them on the other side. Arthur stood back as it happened again, the bricks lurching toward him as they were struck. On the third strike they gave way, leaving enough room for the head of the sledge hammer to break through, quickly hauled back again.

"Arthur?!" Francis called.

"I'm here!" he confirmed "Pass me the sledgehammer and go help the children!"

"The hell am I supposed to do against a flipping ghost?!" Francis swore at him "Stand away from the wall, it's coming down!"

 

* * *

 

 

Alfred was freaking out: where was his dad? Had he died falling down the stairs? Was Mr Braginski okay? Luca was struggling desperately, but whatever that gunk was was keeping her stuck. What was Alfred supposed to do?! Where were Francis and Kiku?! Troll put the kids down on the bed, trying to help Luca pulled herself free. Should Alfred help? Luca told him not to touch that stuff.

Before he could decide what to do, the spectre was upon him, grabbing him by the throat.

"You will mind your father, boy." it threatened.

It tightened its grip on his throat, squeezing his air pipe until he was choking. Madeline screamed harder, getting to her feet on the bed.

"LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!"

Madeline started to glow, quickly shining so bright that it was blinding. The spectre all but screamed, releasing Alfred and stumbling away, covering its eyes. The boy jumped back, throwing his arms around Madeline in a desperate attempt to calm her down. The light forced the spectre back into the hallway, the gunk disappearing, dissolving into nothing when the light hit it.

"What the hell?!" Alfred swore.

Luca roared in frustration, finally free of the gunk, and jumped to her feet, unleashing her power at point blank range into its chest, forcing it away further. Madeline starting crying again, the light fading back to nothing, and desperately clung to her brother, still bawling in fear and confusion. Luca shot the spectre again and again, blowing chunks off of it and forcing it back into the hall.

Alfred could have cried in relief when Arthur appeared at the top of the stairs, supported by Francis. Thank god, he was alright! That must have been one hell of a fall if he couldn't stand alone. Luca seemed happy as well.

"About time!"

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Arthur laughed.

"Good news." she told him "Your girl has the gift."

"Of course she does. She's Daddy's angel."

"First thing's first."

Luca put the gun away, pulling her cross hairpin from her head. It exploded in size, growing until it was the same height and width as her, and she slammed it into the ground, holding it before her like a shield. It shone like a mirror, reflecting the hall perfectly. Arthur stood as independently as possible, pointing his wand at the spectre.

"This is my house and these are my children!" he yelled at it "There is no place for you in this world!"

With a loud battle cry, he launched his magic at the spectre, forcing it back towards Luca. As it hit the shield, a hundred ghostly hands shot out, grabbing it firmly. The spectre tried desperately to free itself, but it was no match for the power of the shield, clawing at the air as it was pulled inside. It let out a final shrill scream as it disappeared, the shield shrinking to it's original size to stop it escaping. With a single fluid movement, Luca slid it back into her hair, smirking in satisfaction.

On the floor, Ivan started to stir, groaning like he's woken up from a week long bender.

"You people are weird." he grumbled "I don't think this is going to fit in my report."

 

* * *

 

 

Luckily for Arthur, his foot was only sprained, his poor back badly bruised. The worst damage was around his throat, which now sported a nasty looking rope burn – one which was very difficult to explain to the paramedics that Kiku had called. It took them a while to convince the doctors that he hadn't actually tried to hang himself, but how much they believed it was a DIY accident was up for debate. Luca took a good eight or nine showers before she felt clean again, but Francis was keen to remind everyone that the real casualty of the events was his poor manicure. Idiot.

The police didn't take long in the basement, wrapping up the body and hauling it away for cremation within an hour. Despite still being there when they left, Ivan took no responsibility for it, letting it be recorded as 'John Doe'. Despite her protestations, Luca didn't get her game room: Francis had the builders in the second Arthur was out of the hospital, giving up the lease on his loft and moving into the newly refurbished basement (with or without his brother-in-law's permission...).

Alfred knocked on the door of his fathers room, causing him to look up from his book, bandaged foot still suspended on the bed.

"Dinner's ready." he told him "Y'know, I thought dinner would be done quicker with Uncle Francis  _and_  Kiku here, but they keep arguing about what to cook."

"Sounds about right." Arthur chuckled "Kiku complains about the housework, but take it away from him and you'll really hear him go off."

Arthur put his book on the bedside table, carefully lowering his foot to the ground. He winced as he put weight on it.

"One piece of advice." he said "Never get old. This would have healed right now if I were your age."

When Alfred didn't laugh the way he normally did, his father took a good look at his face.

"What's wrong?" he asked "Still having trouble sleeping?"

"No." the boy answered "I mean, kinda, not really. It's just..."

"Just?"

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck, not looking at him. He looked almost guilty as his father waited for him to continue.

"I think I saw mum." he confessed "When I was in the cupboard. I think she's the one who let me out."

Alfred startled when his father ruffled his hair playfully.

"Sounds about right." he agreed "That's the kind of person your mother was. Did you see a bright light?"

"I did." Alfred confirmed, a little surprised at how well he was taking it "But it wasn't the same as when Madeline was glowing."

"You saw an angel." Arthur told him "You're lucky! I've never seen one."

"Not ever?" Alfred gasped, knowing his father had been in the business a long time "Wow... so, mum's an angel now..."

"Sounds like her." Arthur agreed "She's so protective of you, I wouldn't be surprised if she became your guardian angel."

"What about Madeline?"

"Madeline has you." his father reminded him "Plus she seems to be an early bloomer..."

"Arthur move your broken butt!" Francis yelled up the stairs "My expertly prepared dinner is getting cold!"

"Mooches aren't allowed to make demands!" he yelled back "Pay some rent, then you can give orders!"

Alfred laughed, helping support his father as they hobbled down the hall. Never a dull moment around here.


End file.
